


The Solo, the Kid, and the Samurai

by Samthedruid



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending - Cyberpunk 2077, Bittersweet Ending, Corporate Espionage, Enemies to Friends, Expand on V and Jackie's friendship, Exploring Johnny and V's connection more (not-romantic), Exploring cyberpunk genre, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gang Wars, High Stakes, Johnny and V start as enemies and end up close friends, M/M, Mercenaries, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original corp character, Original nomad character, Revenge, Rush against time, Spoilers for Cyberpunk 2077, Streetkid background modified, WIP, a spin on cyberpunk's main story, female v, netrunners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samthedruid/pseuds/Samthedruid
Summary: V was born on the streets of Night City, and unless she does something about it, she'll die there - a nobody, forgotten by the world as if she never existed.With her adopted brother and best friend, Jackie, they will take on the world and fight to become legends, forever immortalized in the memories of the people like Johnny Silverhand and Adam Jensin. But it's a long, uphill battle, and they aren't the only once scrabbling for glory.When the top fixer in town takes an interest in them, the path to success seems certain, until a job goes sour and a biochip finds it's way into V's brain, bringing with it an unwanted passenger.Marcus fought tooth and nail for his position at Arasaka. There was no price he wouldn't pay to get to the top. It's nature's purest law, survival of the fittest. But how long can he hold out in this world where everyone's out to stab you in the back, and the smallest mistake can lose you everything?Dodger's clan is no more, and a nomad without a clan is less than nothing. An outsider among outsiders. So she makes her way to Night City, the City of Dreams, and maybe she can make a new family there without giving up her freedom.(*Note: changed Lex to Dodger)
Relationships: Judy Alvarez/Female V, Misty Olszewski/Jackie Welles, Rogue Amendiares/Johnny Silverhand
Comments: 15
Kudos: 78





	1. The Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, strong language will be used in line with the source material.
> 
> I apologise for any incorrect use of slang.
> 
> This is just me trying to have fun with a new genre and a game I thoroughly enjoyed and exploring some relationships and concepts more. I borrow very heavily from Cyberpunk 2077, but will sprinkle in some elements from other forms of entertainment related to the cyberpunk genre.

El Coyote Cojo was busy; blue boys and girls nursing drinks after sixteen hour shifts, the odd solo and small-time fixer talking business in a booth, and Valentino’s hanging at their usual spot by the pool tables. Latin music played in the background. The lights were low, except for the neon green proclaiming _El Coyote Cojo_ from above the bar. Nearly every inch of the walls was covered with pages from screamsheets, almost all of them featuring someone from Heywood.

A girl, small and skinny, burst in through the swing doors. Her hair was bleached white and flopped down the right side of her face, while the left side of her scalp was shaved to a dark bristle. Kohl ringed and smudged her green eyes, her ears glittered with silvers studs and rings. Her skin-tight jeans were ripped and stained – from wear, not fashion – a black faux-leather jacket, slightly too big, and fraying at the collar and elbows, hung from her slender shoulders over a faded, once-black t-shirt with the print of an ugly, leering face mostly washed out. There was a hardness to her thin frame, like the cats that prowled the alleys of Night City.

The girl headed straight for the bar and hopped up onto a stool.

“Hola V,” greeted Pepe. He was tall and muscular, his arms tattooed with beautiful sleeves of flowers and skulls. He made an intimidating sight at six foot five, but the dark eyes peering from the handsome, lined face were kind. A golden crucifix dangled from a chain around his neck, and his chrome right hand also gleamed like yellow gold.

“Hola Pepe,” grunted V. “Jackie here?” She examined her bruised and bloodied knuckles, and hissed as she gingerly tried to make fists. “You got anything for this?”

Pepe shook his head. “What did you do, niña?”

She scowled at him. “Broke a gonk’s nose.”

He nodded appreciatively, then daubed a cloth in some spirits. “Here. It’ll sting, but at least it’ll get it clean.”

V accepted the cloth, dabbed her war wounds and yelped “fuck!”

Pepe chuckled. “Nothing broken at least?”

“Don’t think so,” she tried for another experimental flex of her knuckles. “Nah. Just bruised.”

“Lemme know if I c’n get you anything,” he grinned, “some vodka to dull the pain?” he laughed as he moved on to help someone with a drink.

V continued to dab at her knuckles, muttering profanities with each sharp sting.

A large figure, barely fitting in his studded leather jacket, got onto the stool next to V’s. “Hey V! Sorry I’m late, had to run an errand.”

“Hey,” V smiled and quickly tried to hide her hands in her lap.

“Whoa there, hermana,” Jackie grabbed her wrists with his massive paws, one of meat and one of metal, and with a surprising gentleness examined her abrasions. “Do I need to break some fucker’s knees? What happened?” His broad, flat face was a mask of concern.

V pulled her hands back. “Some stupid gonk mistook me for a doll.”

His expression darkened.

“Don’t worry, I broke the hijo de puta’s nose and made sure he wouldn’t be able to walk or sit down in the next coupla days,” said V in a light tone, pushing the fear down, still tasting the bile of it. But it was hard to hide things like this from Jackie. They were no strangers to fear; it was their dogged shadow that followed them through the streets, a constant reminder that any time, any day, they could be the next body lying in the gutter, or worse, picked up, used and abused, then thrown back to the trash, a broken toy. You see them everywhere, with their dead, hollow eyes, the shells that Night City didn’t want and spat out.

“I should show you how to hit a bastard without hurting yourself,” he said.

“Well that’s easy for you,” V nodded at his left arm, which was entirely chromed up, the once gleaming metal now stained, and the paint chipping in places.

Jackie clenched and unclenched his robotic fingers. “I learned the hard way before I got this. You’re lookin at the heavyweight champion of Heywood!” Aside from the chrome arm, he also sported the tell-tale seams along his cheekbones and temples of implants, and a jack port just behind his right ear. All the standard trappings of a solo.

“Former,” V reminded.

“Bah,” he batted her words away.

“Anyway, why did you wanna meet?” V changed the subject, forcing the shadows to recede to the back of her mind.

Jackie’s dark eyes lit up, excited like a child’s. “Oh yeah! To celebrate! I just got a good score!”

V brightened up with him. “From the border job?”

He turned in his seat with a creak of leather. “Hey, Pepe!? Can I get two drinks here?”

“Hola Jackie,” Pepe nodded at him, “what’s your poison?”

Jackie laughed, deep and heartily, like only he could, “come on pendejo, do you even have to ask?”

“Come on!” V grinned and twitched in her seat, “tell me about it!”

Jackie winked. “Patience lil sis, I’ll tell you the whole thrilling saga!”

Pepe put two glasses of tequila in front of them, the edges rimmed with salt, and two shots with synthetic lime juice on the side to wash it down. The real deal was too rich for El Coyote. With practiced ease Jackie and V knocked back their drinks. Jackie smacked his lips and sighed.

“Stop teasin and tell!” V shoved him with her boot.

Jackie grinned his crooked grin. “So there I was, on this lil farm out in the middle of fuckin nowhere, being eaten alive by flies, waitin for my drop. I was getting twitchy, they were late, and jus as I was about to pull out, this nomad chica shows up and announces that she’s my contact. ‘Whoa there mamasita,’ I said, ‘fixer said I was meetin a guy named Simeon.’ She jus looks at me, and as cool as c’n be says, ‘Simeon’s dead. I was asked to step in.’” Jackie narrowed his eyes as he imitated the nomad. “Now I immediately smelled a rat, Jackie here ain’t stupid. But she showed me her clan colours and the deets from the fixer, and the cargo was hot, gettin hotter by the second.”

“What was it?” asked V.

“I’m gettin there,” Jackie waved. “Chatter on the comms was becomin too loud for comfort, so I decided to hedge my bets. And whoo boy! Did it pay off! That nomad could fuckin _drive_ like the devil! Her ride’s this souped up lil Thornton, everythin custom, from the engine, the suspension, the afterburners! We ripped through the Badlands and it seemed like smooth sailin until we were flagged by border patrol. Sweat was drippin down my balls man, but as calm as can be, the nomad asked me for the papers and the credits. She talks to the bulle, slips him the credits, and we’re cruisin for Night City.”

“That easily?” V raised an eyebrow.

“Damn you’re impatient,” Jackie mock-growled. “We were just about to enter city limits when the whole of Militech’s forces pounced on us. I could barely get my iron out, and the nomad was already tearin through em, squeezing through the gaps and headed for the solar farm while it fuckin rained bullets. I took out a few drones, but couldn’t really hit anythin with the way she was drivin, not that I’m complainin, it’s thanks to her that I’m sittin here, sippin a drink. The farm scrambled their radars, after which she managed to break line of site and we hid in an old, abandoned barn until the heat died down.

“So while we we’re sittin there, two peas in a pod, we got bored and checked out the merch. Get this V,” Jackie leaned forward, eyes wide, “it was fuckin chocolate!”

“No!”

“Yeah! A whole stash of the preemest stuff.”

“Did you take some?” V asked, eyes shining.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Wakako would’ve had my balls. She’d know if I’d skimmed off the top. And I’m a Heywood boy, honour still means somethin here!”

“Who’s the buyer?” asked V.

“Dunno. Took the goods to Wakako and she takes it from there. It’s better this way. Keeps everything nice and clean. Well, clean-ish.”

“What about the nomad?”

“She said something about freelance work. Might run into her again sometime. She’s a hell of a driver.”

“You catch her name?”

“Nope. She wanted to keep things ‘profesh’.”

V grinned. “What? A woman who can withstand Jackie Welles charms!?”

Jackie shrugged. “I’m spoken for. So she didn’t get to see the Jackie charm,” he smiled wickedly.

V was practically bursting in her seat, finally unable to keep herself from asking. “So when are you going to talk to a fixer about me?”

Jackie’s expression immediately became cautious. “V…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed, “I know! It’s dangerous and it could get me killed! I know! But so can walking down the street! Fuck, for all we know the corps will go to war again tomorrow!” She leaned closer, the pain in her knuckles forgotten. “Jackie, please! You’re always talkin of becoming a legend, of conquering Night City. I want that too! We can be partners! You know what I can do. You know I’m good.”

He looked at her long and thoughtfully. In the end, he sighed. “Okay fine. I’ll check. But no tellin Mama, chapiche? She’d kill me if she finds out I’m draggin you into the biz. She’s already buried one Welles kid.”

“It’s that or joinin one of the gangs and–”

Jackie suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers could wrap completely around her arms. “No, V,” he said sharply. “Don’t you ever think about that. Ever. Not over my dead body. Got that?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, trying to hide her fright. Jackie very, very rarely showed this side. “I promised, remember?”

He relaxed, smiled, and gave her a one-armed hug with the flesh arm. “Tha’s my girl. Want some grub? I’m starvin. We can have anything you like! It’s all on me.”

“Burgers at Denny’s?”

Jackie laughed long and loud. “I shoulda guessed. ‘Course! Ey, Pepe, c’n I get you anything?”

“Some ‘o those nuggets por favor,” Pepe grinned.

Jackie winked at him and got to his feet, V following suit. On the way out Jackie called a curt greeting to Valentino’s who were watching them leave.

“Hola Ricky. Samson.”

“Hola Jackie,” they replied in kind.

The tense set in Jackie’s shoulders vanished as soon as they got outside.

Though it was evening, Night City lit up the horizon with her colours. Arasaka Tower was a gleaming white landmark, visible no matter where you stood, the two, gargantuan, blue and red holo koi circling it in an eternal loop. There were bright lights everywhere, blaringly neon in all the colours of the rainbow. It made the shadows that much darker. The lights didn’t reach all the dirty alleys and cracked corners of the city. Billboards and ads scrolling across buildings sold sex, drugs, fashion, and body modifications.

**MR STUD**

**ALL NIGHT EVERY NIGHT**

**GIVE HER THE RIDE OF HER LIFE**

**GOMORRAH**

**INDULGE YOUR DARKEST FANTASIES**

**COME PLAY WITH OUR WIDE SELECTION OF DOLLS**

**WE’VE GOT ONE FOR EVERY TASTE**

**CHASE AWAY THE BLUES WITH JOY**

**HAPPINESS IS A CHOICE**

**SO WHY NOT START TODAY?**

**TIRED OF BEING AN UGLY LOSER?**

**WANT TO LOSE WEIGHT?**

**WANT TO BECOME THE PERFECT YOU?**

**PERHAPS IT’S TIME FOR AN UPGR@DE!**

**SPEED**

**FOR THAT EXTRA EDGE**

**WHEN YOU NEED TO BE THE BEST**

**KIROSHI**

**THE WORLD LEADER IN OPTICS**

**GET YOUR PAIR TODAY**

**AND SEE THE FUTURE**

A doll stood on almost every corner, selling their flesh and chrome to anyone with credits. Most of them hoped to get snagged up by a legit vid company, or one of the elite clubs like Lizzies. It’s safer and more stable than being scooped up on the street by some psycho who likes to do things with knives. Not that there weren’t psychos wearing suits, but at least the preem dolls got some protection and insurance.

They took the metro to Bradbury and Burns, then crossed the four lanes to reach Denny’s on the other side. It was a brightly lit place that tried to go for a retro diner look. The walls were canary yellow and the booth cushions a faded red. Jackie and V took a booth near the back; the plastic table was sticky and scuffed, but it was in the best shape. A tired woman in a pink uniform asked them for their orders.

“Can I get a milkshake too?” V looked hopefully at Jackie.

“Anything you want,” Jackie grinned.

They ordered milkshakes, strawberry for V, and chocolate for Jackie, and V ordered a cheese burger while Jackie asked for the monster – double cheese burger with hashbrowns, eggs, and Denny’s Secret Sauce. All the meat and dairy was soy-based, of course. Only the super-rich could afford real meat; and since the BSE Outbreak a decade ago, milk production has been stopped indefinitely.

V devoured her food in seconds. Mama Welles was a great cook, but there was nothing like cramming your body with greasy, artificial flavourants and chemicals to get the dopamine firing. And she rarely got to eat hamburgers. It was a tradition, whenever they celebrated something big, Jackie brought V to Denny’s, ever since she was eleven years old and had beaten Stevie from down the street's ass for calling her mother a puta.

“So whe’ you tahkin oo Wah-a-oh?” V asked through a mouthful of fries.

“What? Mama didn’t raise no barbarian, swallow first!”

V inhaled the mouthful of food and repeated: “So when you talkin to Wakako?”

“Santa Maria, V!” Jack threw his hands in the air. “You won’t let this go? Sides, Wakako’s too big for you. We gotta start small.”

“Like who?”

“Kirk.”

V snorted. “Thought he was a sewer slug.”

“He is. But he’s a sewer slug with some small gigs that can introduce you to the biz. In fact,” a sly look crossed his face. “Rumour is he might have something that’ll suit your skills.”

“When can we arrange a meet?” V asked eagerly, the food momentarily forgotten.

“Tonight we celebrate, capiche? Tomorrow we can discuss work.”


	2. The Corpo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to create characters based on each background available in Cyberpunk 2077, and of course, not all of them can be V. So I present to you Marcus Jastrzebski.
> 
> If you've already played the game, you'll notice I deviate from the way the Corpo intro plays out in the game, but this is for my own personal plot reasons.
> 
> And yes, Joy is a not-so-sneaky reference to We Happy Few

Marcus leaned heavily over the basin as he heaved his guts out. With a trembling hand he waved at the sensor and water poured from the faucet. He splashed his face, feeling the scratch of his stubble and the smooth ridges of his implants beneath his fingers. He switched his neural interface to display his hormone and neurotransmitter levels in a nice, cool teal. The cortisol graph was high and climbing, with dopamine and serotonin levels dropping. A little warning message popped to the left, right at the edge of his vision, advising him to administer a new dose. His shaking hand had trouble fumbling the plastic pill bottle from inside his blazer jacket.

 **JOY** proclaimed the bottle with a shit eating grin plastered beneath the bright letters. It was some cocktail made from god knows what, including methylphenidate to add an extra boost to his cognitive faculties. Not that Marcus cared what was in it. It could be fucking crystal and he’d still take it, as long as it worked and his doctor kept prescribing it. Just a shame they didn’t have it in inhaler form yet; it took an hour for the pill to kick in. Luckily he had something that _did_ come in an inhaler to calm the nerves until the prescription meds kicked in. He pumped a dose of lorazepam into his lungs and breathed deeply, waiting only few minutes until the delicious fog swept over him and smoothed out all the edges. He didn’t get a high, like some people did, all it did was cover all his worries with a blanket, leaving behind a sense of quiet contentment.

Marcus shook his head, smoothed his dark hair, which was cropped at the sides and swept back on top. He only went to Phillipe in North Oaks, who did the hair of all the pops stars, A-list BD actors, and corpo execs. If you wanted to dance with the best, you had to look the best. He’d spent a fortune to reshape his jawline to the rugged, hard edge it had now, as well as on a strong chin with a fashionable cleft. His Kiroshi implants were the latest models, the irises the colour of cold steel. He spent an hour each week in UV therapy to maintain his even tan. His personal trainer and life coach, Neil, monitored his exercise and diet as strictly as a Russian ballet instructor, keeping his body hard and lean. His suit was the latest from Giuseppe Giordino, the blazer and slacks as black as sin with a crisp, red silk shirt, completed by a pair of genuine leather shoes. Marcus wasn’t playing around. He was going to make it to the top.

His composure regained, Marcus left the washroom, assuming the shark persona he’d so carefully crafted. His interface switched back to feed him the stock markets in the bottom right, a ribbon at the bottom of his visual scrolled news headlines, his planner was minimized at the top right, and a blinking digital envelope, an archaic image that still represented non-verbal communication, notified him of three unread messages.

Marcus followed a small group of suited men and women into the nearest elevator as Arasaka propaganda blared from screens all over the building. His fellow passengers’ eyes were glued to feeds only they could see, scowling at tablets clutched in their hands, or arguing over their comms. Marcus sent the elevator’s computer a neural prompt, then checked his messages as the glass and metal box moved. He ignored the message from Getaway, which was probably just to inform him of their latest “specials” and the hottest new vacation spots. The next message was from Kayla; once the lorazepam faded he will probably feel the irritation, but for now he just passed over it emotionlessly. He opened Jenkins’ message.

_Where the fuck are you_

_On my way_

Marcus rode the elevator several floors up, passengers embarking and disembarking, until he reached his floor. He stepped into a wide, open, brightly lit space with gleaming black floors and glass box conference rooms. The furnishings were modern Japanese and followed a simple colour palette of red, black, and white. Large, abstract paintings decorated the walls here and there. Further in was another large, glass box, filled with cubicles, more spacious than the crammed offices spaces several floors down. He crossed the floor with long purposeful strides. A young man with his sleeves rolled up, hugging a tablet, approached him nervously.

“Mr Jastrzebski?”

Marcus waved for him to continue without breaking stride or making eye contact.

“I got that report you requested,” said the young man in a high, quivering voice. Internally, Marcus grinned at the fear he invoked.

“You’re late,” said Marcus, his tone glacial.

“I-I-I yes, but –”

“Send it to me. I’ll read it after my meeting. We’ll have words later.”

The man’s Adams apple bobbed, he lowered his head, almost bowing, and scurried off. Three seconds later Marcus’s interface notified him that the report was in his inbox.

He was about three quarters of the way to the private elevator that led to Jenkins’ office, when another man stopped him. He was dressed casually for the office environment, a loose, white, button up shirt with the first three buttons undone, hair tousled, everything about him carefree. This could also be a persona though, as carefully crafted as Marcus’s.

“Hey, Marcus!”

Marcus’s expression remained neutral as he studied the man’s face. It was familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place it. He scanned Arasaka’s employee database (the parts he had access to) in a matter of seconds.

“Frank!” Marcus face morphed into a genial smile. “Haven’t seen you since Icefall! How are things?”

“Good, good. Just got in from Cape Town. Heard you made counter-intel, congrats!”

“Thank you!” Marcus grinned. “Any news from down south?”

“Nah, it’s been nice and quiet, which is probably why I’ve been called back to Night City. I heard Frankfurt was a bit of a shit show.”

Another of Marcus’s roots of anxiety, but thanks to the drugs he could laugh and shrug it off. “You could say that! I’m heading over to Jenkins right now to fix his cock-up.”

Frank chuckled. “Good luck!”

Marcus gave him an informal salute and sauntered to the elevator.

After the short ride, the androgynous receptionist on the other side informed Marcus in the crisp, emotionless monotone of a machine, “Mr Jenkins is ready to see you now.”

The doors slid open and Marcus entered the office. The room was dark with the exception of a live feed of the European Space Council summit blown up across the opposite wall. Jenkins paced erratically in front of it, yelling at someone over his comms. Between them was a conference table and Marcus took a seat, placidly waiting for Jenkins to finish. It’s a good thing he dosed up before he came, or he’d probably have had a hard time restraining himself from strangling Jenkins’ slimy neck here and now. Patience was the name of the game.

“You watching the feed?” Jenkins shouted. “Well keep watching! It’s about to happen!”

Marcus’s silver eyes flicked back to the feed. The representative for Scandinavia was addressing the table. There was no audio; Marcus wasn’t tuned to the feed itself, but he let it play out in silence. Jenkins’ tense form became still as he focussed on the summit. Suddenly, the representatives of New Rome and the Balkans twitched and went limp in their seats. It took a few seconds for the others to catch on and people leapt to their feet, mouths flapping in silent panic. The feed went quiet.

“There! I just saved our assets in Sea of Clouds. Now go and report _that_ to Abernathy and let _me_ handle Frankfurt!”

Jenkins ended the call, took a deep breath, and turned around.

“I hate that fucking bitch,” he muttered as he sat down across from Marcus.

“I take it you don’t mean the representative from New Rome.”

Jenkins glared at him. “You’re late. I asked you to be here and hour ago.”

“It took me an hour to get here,” Marcus spread his hands.

Jenkins rubbed his brow. He made a waving motion with his right hand and all the walls gradually faded from black to become windows to the outside world – a nice view of the lawns and sculptures of Corpo Plaza; Militech’s ugly building across the way.

“That to do with Frankfurt?” Marcus jerked his head to where the feed had played.

“The beginning. We need a deep clean, understood?”

Marcus nodded.

“I won us a week on the vote, but we’re still up to our Kiroshi’s in shit.” He spun around and Marcus stared at the back of his chair. “There’s a leak. Someone’s been feeding Kerenzikov intel.”

Marcus wasn’t even surprised. It was, after all, part of his job.

“Check everyone who was on Frankfurt. I want everything on them – where they grew up, where they live, their favourite food, who they’re fucking, who their therapist’s fucking – _everything._ Wipe them all if necessary.”

Marcus’s mouth pursed with distaste. Jenkins’ way of dealing with problems was as subtle as a panzer crashing through the front door. He had no elegance, no imagination.

“No problem.”

Jenkins started pacing again and muttered, “fucking Abernathy.”

Marcus suppressed a sigh. Time to play armchair psychologist. He got up and went over to where Jenkins kept his bourbon and poured him a glass. He brought it over to the weasely man and said, “she’s pretty much holding us at gunpoint.”

“She _smeared_ me in front of the Japanese execs!” Jenkins exploded and downed the whiskey.

_Here we go._

“I should be director!” Jenkins spat. “Not her! She _stole_ my promotion!”

How on earth this toddler got to his position, Marcus had no idea. But it was thanks to this toddler that he got a shot at Arasaka. If that meant playing nanny to get where he wanted, he’d change Jenkins’ fucking diapers if that’s what it took.

A manic light lit up in Jenkins’ eyes.

“Know what? Know what I think?”

“No? Tell me.”

“Frankfurt, Kerenzikov, she set me up! It’s all her doing!”

Marcus felt a twinge of nerves even through the lorazepam haze.

“Abernathy?”

“Yes! Fucking hell, keep up Marcus! Don’t you see?” he leaned toward Marcus, wafting alcohol fumes into his face. That hadn’t been his first bourbon. Marcus didn’t flinch or pull away, though in his mind’s eye he imagined shoving Jenkins through one of those expensive windows.

“Okay,” said Marcus slowly, like a parent speaking to a child insisting there’s monsters under the bed. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s always had it out for me! She’s trying to fuck me over, but oh no,” Jenkins resumed his manic pacing again, “she won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Marcus watched him in silence as unease fought against the drug for control of his composure. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Jenkins was going psycho –

Lights literally and figuratively lit up in Marcus’s neural network. The tiniest seed of an idea was planted, but it was extremely dangerous. He had to nurture this seed quietly and carefully until it was ready to bloom. Patience was the name of the game after all.

“You know what, scrap what I said earlier,” Jenkins broke through his racing thoughts. “I’ll put Wallace on it.”

“Wallace is an incompetent Neanderthal!” Marcus scowled.

Jenkins just waved his words aside and pressed a manicured finger into Marcus’s chest. “Get me intel on Abernathy. We’re going to get that bitch.”

Marcus grinned along with Jenkins, but for very different reasons.


	3. The Nomad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as before: altered intro, original character. Hopefully the same kickass spirit.
> 
> Meet Dodger - the nomad without a clan.
> 
> And there's bound to be grammatical errors. I shouldn't write after midnight.

The Galena sat in a shabby little garage in a little town nobody cared enough to remember the name of, her innards exposed to a mechanic who was working on Dodger’s last nerves. At least the gonk had had the decency not to charge her for towing her sorry ass in after her ride decided to die on her in the sweltering heat of the Badlands.

A nomad without a clan was nothing. A nomad without a car, was less than nothing.

The little man didn’t have the skills to fix a nomad’s ride, and Dodger was tempted to push him out of the way and do it herself. In the back of her mind a clock ticked away. The fixer was going to lose their patience if she didn’t bring the cargo by the end of today, and “sorry, my car broke down” just didn’t cut it with the folks of Night City.

Night City.

Dodger squirmed. The city was everything she’d heard about it, and yet so much worse. The city made her skin crawl, like it’s stench was clinging to her, slowly poisoning her like it did everyone else who set foot there. She didn’t have a choice. It was the price of freedom.

Was she truly free though? Or had she merely exchanged one cage for another? Snake Nation for Night City? She pushed the thought away, too frightened to follow it to its conclusion. No. There was just here and now, and making it to the next moment.

But to get to the next moment she needed her ride.

“Move over, let me take a look,” she said, the words coming out sharper than intended. The mechanic gave her a look that made her want to punch him in his stupid face.

Dodger took the mechanic’s spot and peered under the hood.

“I need to order some parts to get her back into working order, but it’ll cost you more,” said the mechanic unhelpfully.

Dodger clenched her jaw. A lone nomad might as well have a target painted on them. As soon as someone sniffs it on you, they try to take every advantage.

“I’ll bypass the coupling and rig a hotwire,” mumbled Dodger, more to herself.

The mechanic snorted loudly. “Compressor’ll seize up.”

Dodger chose to ignore him and carried out her plan. In her heart she knew the next leg of her journey back to Night City will probably be the Galena’s swan song. Just one more precious thing to be ripped away from her.

The sound of footsteps made her whirl around instinctively, muscles tense and wired. A middle-aged man with leathery skin and an honest-to-goodness cowboy hat swaggered in from the midday heat.

“Hey Mikey,” the newcomer drawled, clutching his belt like he was the hero of a Western. “Who’s yer customer?”

All the mechanic’s arrogance melted away in an instant and he straightened up like schoolboy caught smoking. “Oh, uh, hey Sheriff. Just some unlucky bastard I had to tow in from the Ridges.”

“That so?” the sheriff looked Dodger up and down, slowly. “And you didn’t think of payin me the courtesy of droppin in? Round these parts, ya owe the sheriff a lil word when ya pay their town a visit. I served in the war I'll have you know; that demands some respect. Silver Shoguns ring any bells?”

It didn't.

Dodger swallowed her venom and said, “didn’t even plan to stop by. Your choom, _Mikey_ , just happened to be the one to answer my distress call. He was very kind to tow me in. I’ll just get my ride up and running and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

The sheriff made another pass along the length of her body, taking in her sharp features, brown skin, oil-black hair tied back messily, his eyes resting particularly on the sleeveless leather jacket over her flannel shirt.

“What clan ya ride for?” he asked.

Dodger’s jaw tightened. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me. Mighty suspicious to hide somethin like that.”

“Folks usually don’t treat us too kindly when they find out what we are. You know how people can be,” she added with a sharp edge. “I got separated from my clan in a storm. It’s safer to travel incognito.”

The sheriff chucked heartily at this. “Incognito? Ya here that Mikey? _Incognito_!”

Mikey laughed along nervously.

Abruptly the sheriff sobered up and he stepped closer to Dodger. She straightened her spine and raised her chin as he approached.

“Nothin boils my blood like a fuckin stray. You c’n hide yer badge, and ya can hide yer name, but you can’t hide the fuckin stench. C’n smell it on you from a mile away.”

“Then I’ll just be on my way so that my stink won’t bother you anymore,” she replied icily.

Dodger didn’t even wait for a response and she moved around to the driver’s door. She got into the seat that had melded to the shape of her body from the long hours she’d spent trekking across the wastes, and prayed that the Galena will start. At the first two attempts the engine stalled and Dodger’s heart sank.

 _Come on girl_.

The engine hiccoughed then roared to life. Dodger reached inside the glove compartment and tossed a chip to Mikey.

“For your troubles. Adios!”

With another roar that sent fire rushing through Dodger’s veins, she tore out of the garage, brakes screeching as she skidded around the corner, then ripped down the asphalt river, aiming the Galena toward Night City.

The border crossing was smooth compared to Dodger’s last run with that Latino solo. The bulle still gave her the side-eye when she showed him the documents and the customary bribe, but at least this time there was no corpo muscle on her ass.

Her chest tightened as Night City rose up and towered over her, as she passed into its shadow. For all its lights and grandeur, it was just a gilded cage, and she missed the endless expanse of the Badlands.

Dodger made the drop, a bit later than intended, but at least she got paid the full amount for the job. She hated the next part, the waiting in between gigs. She was hopelessly lost and needed the gigs to give her some sense of purpose. The eddies were enough to cover a few nights in a cheap motel, but then what? What did she do with the hours in between? Where could she go? She didn’t know a soul in the city. Well, there were the fixers, but they were just names that led to work.

And then there was the Latino. Jackie something?

While they’d waited out the heat, Militech drones buzzing overhead, Jackie must’ve sensed how lost Dodger really was.

_“If you ever need somewhere to go in Night City, here’s my girl Misty’s deets. She’ll take care of you. Jus tell her Jackie sent you.”_

Dodger got some noodles at a streetside kiosk and flicked through her contacts until she found Misty’s name. She stared at the number and address for ages while slurping up rubber noodles mechanically.

The Jackie guy had seemed a decent sort, if a bit soft in the head.

_“You c’n trust me, I’m a Heywood boy. Born ‘n bred.”_

_“That supposed to mean something?”_

_“Okay, imagine if you lived somewhere where everyone is family, blood or not.”_

She’d smiled at that.

_“Sure. I can imagine that. Used to belong my own little Heywood.”_

Maybe this was the first step to properly starting a new life?

Dodger finished her noodles and returned to the Galena. It wouldn’t start. With a sigh, and the weight inside of her growing even heavier, she patted the dash and bid the faithful vehicle a solemn farewell. No proper nomad funeral for her Galena. Taking this as a sign, she brought up a map of Night City in her visual, marked the waypoint for Misty’s Isoterica, left the Galena, and started walking.


	4. The First Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I clearly need to research how the Net and netrunning in Cyberpunk works more, but I hope this chapter is at least readable. V gets her first gig, which I based off of one of the simpler gigs available in the game. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Edit: Added some writing on the Mox.

Kirk the sewer slug was sporting his shiniest, lime green tracksuit with silver accents. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back and he wore shades despite being indoors. To his left sat a mountain of meat, his small eyes scanning the patrons of El Coyote while he devoured his burrito. V and Jackie watching him from the opposite side of the booth as he scrolled through his tablet.

V’s knee jittered beneath the table, and she felt Jackie clench and unclench his fist next to her. Kirk’s been ignoring them for ten minutes now. They both knew he was doing it just to be a dick, wanting to feel more important than he was. The truth, Kirk was just smalltime, and probably would be until the day he died a premature death due to a crystal overdose. V wanted to yank the fucking tablet from under his greasy fingers, but contained herself. She didn’t want to upset her first potential fixer, nor did she want to cause any trouble for Pepe or Mama by instigating a fight with the meat man.

“A’right, what can I do fuh you?” Kirk finally slid the tablet to the side. “You reconsider my offer?”

“Nope,” replied Jackie. “Answer’s still no. Rayfield’s too hot for the taking.”

Kirk sighed theatrically. “Is that why you brought the kid?”

Jackie just chuckled. “Nah, homes, you and I both know you won’t trust a fresh on a hot job like that. Nah, I arranged this meeting as an introduction. V?” He turned to grin at her and gave her a little nudge.

V placed her hands flat on the table. “Heard you need a runner.”

Kirk looked Jackie. “You kiddin’ me?” Then he switched back to V. “How old is this kid even, fifteen?”

“Nineteen,” snapped V.

“What does some skinny lil girl know about jacking?” Kirk scoffed.

“More than you, or else you wouldn’t need a runner. I can breach a standard protocol in ten seconds flat.”

“What soft and cyberware you packin?”

V shifted a little. “Nothin but my jacks – for now.”

Kirk threw his hands up and shook his head. “Are you seriously wastin my fuckin time with this!?”

“Get me to port and I can get you in, guaranteed,” V growled, starting to lean toward Kirk. All she needed was a shot. “I don’t need no fancy tech or soft to get the job done.”

Kirk glanced at Jackie again, who just smiled and shrugged. “The kid’s a natural. Give her a shot, ey choom? ‘Sides, you owe me one.”

Kirk’s pale hands clenched into fists and his mouth tightened. “Fine! But she screws this up we’re done, got that Welles!?”

“Oh dearie me,” Jackie clutched his head in mock horror.

Kirk’s scowl deepened.

“So what’s the gig?” V interjected before Kirk changed his mind.

He glanced back at her, deliberated for a few seconds, then the implants at his temples flickered with blue lights.

“Fine. I got one job that’s pretty simple. Got a client whose husband cheated on her, so she wants a lil revenge.”

V nodded.

“My client’s worried that she’ll lose everything in the divorce, so she wants the apartment and the car transferred to her name for insurance.”

“Mess with the accounts. Got it. And the revenge?”

“She wants him ruined. I dunno, upload his nudes to the Net or something. Get creative. Just… whatever you do, do it quietly.”

“The target, who is he?”

“I’ll send you the deets. Don’t fuck this up. If you manage to pull this off though, I’ll pay you three-hundred eddies.”

“Fuck no!” erupted V and meat mountain’s little eyes focussed on her. “No way! You wouldn’t offer another runner that little! A thousand. Standard rate.”

Kirk’s jaw worked. “Seven-hundred. I’m taking a risk on you, you’re a fresh. Dunno what you c’n do yet.”

“Jackie vouched for me!”

“Yeah, well,” Kirk shifted. “You’re still untested. Want the gig or not?”

V glowered at him for a moment. “Fine. Seven-hundred.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Kirk motioned for the muscle to get out of the booth. “You have until tomorrow mornin.”

V and Jackie watched them go downstairs and out of sight.

“Guess who’s got their first gig!” Jackie cried and shook V. She couldn’t help but grin back. Despite her act, seven-hundred was a _lot_ of eddies for a nobody from the streets. She could finally start saving up for some proper gear and cyberware! Maybe she could even convince Vik to give her a discount…

“This is your job, hermana, so I won’t interfere,” Jackie raised his hands, palms out. “It’s for you to figure out the angles. But uh…” his eyes darted around. “If things get, y’ know, chungo for some reason, call me.”

“I will, gracias Jackie,” V lightly punched his chrome arm.

“Well,” Jackie heaved himself up with a grunt. “I also got a job to do. Buena suerte!”

“Igualmente,” V called after him.

V checked her mobile and Kirk’s deets were already waiting for her.

**Gig type: Thievery**

**Client: Cherie Townsend**

**Target: Mason Townsend**

**Townsend’s bn unfaithful & Mrs Townsend’s pissed. She wants him ruined NOT DEAD. I aint payin you to kill the gonk. Screw with his accounts. Do this quietly & youll get ur eddies. Info on the trget attached.**

V opened the file and scanned through it. Townsend was a clerk at West City Bank Corp, so pretty low on the food chain as corps went. Little risk of him having high-end security on his personal devices. Unless he had some surprises that she and Kirk were unaware of. Cherie had sent the address, the locations of his favourite BD dive and bar, as well as a summary of the security of the apartment and the building. Standard alarm system for the apartment and a camera in the building’s lobby. Access was controlled by the tenants and staff. But, if V was creative, she could pull off most of the job off without interacting with a single living person.

She pulled up a map of Night City on her mobile and typed in the address. The map jumped to Serenity Apartments in Westbrook, giving V a bird’s eye view of the site. It was a standard apartment building, thirty floors. The client and the target lived in apartment 2404. V adjusted the map and found the fire escape and window to 2404. Then she scanned the building and found, as she expected, the junction box at ground level, accessed from an alley behind the building. She changed the settings of the application, and the map changed to show her the network of cables that spread from the box and through the building like synthetic weeds. Thicker cables ran underneath the street off toward NetWatch, the brain of the city. If she jacked into that box, she’d have access to the entire building’s network.

V headed for the metro and spent the last of her eddies on a trip to Westbrook. From there she walked to Serenity Apartments. Although the streets were less crowded here, and there was less trash and filth on the sidewalks, she still kept a wary eye on the passing cars and other pedestrians, keeping tabs of open shops and takeaway places in case she needed to find relative safety from snatchers, gangbangers and muggers. If she were with Jackie she would have let her guard down a little, but a young woman on her own was a preem target. It’s one of the reasons she’d cut her face when she was younger, leaving a jagged scar across her left cheek that had taken ages to heal. Most snatchers preferred their victims in as preem condition as possible, so they usually targeted healthy, pretty girls and boys with unblemished skin and little to no chrome. Some girls over in Pacifica tattooed themselves all over as protection. But scars and tattoos weren’t perfect armour against some of the sickos out there. Flesh was a hot commodity.

Serenity Apartments was a boring concrete slab like so many others all over Night City, albeit with less graffiti. Few people passed through the front entrance, most of them were probably at work. It was one of the few homes of the tiny and rapidly dwindling middle class. V made note of the camera right over the entrance and made a quick mental calculation of its field of view. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be too many cameras out on the street either. She took a circuitous route to the alley behind the apartment building. There was another camera keeping a watchful eye on the junction box. A minor inconvenience. She scanned the camera with her mobile and activated the soft she’d coded herself. It didn’t disable the camera, for that she needed proper tech, but rather created interference that would render a minute or two of the footage unusable – enough of a window for her to jack into the junction and take a peek at the building’s network.

With the interference going, V crouched by the box, moving with quick, practiced ease. She pulled out a cord, attached it to the port behind her right ear, then jacked herself into the local network. The first second or two was always jarring as her neurons interfaced with the system. Having the proper cyberware would filter out noise and make a lot of the process faster, easier, and safer. V had to make do with what she had though. A matrix of numbers and codes ran through her mind; a simple algorithm, nothing too challenging. She breached the protocol and was inside. Her mind darted along the optic fibres, following the bright data highway to 2404. She disabled the alarm system and from there jumped around to see what she had to work with. Smartscreen, refrigerator, music system… cleaning droid! She switched to the droid’s perspective, which was a little disorienting as it was low to the ground with a fish-eye lens effect. She used it to hitch a ride around the apartment and snooped. Nice place, she could see herself living in a place like this one day. There was a computer in the bedroom, but it was powered down. Fuck. She’d have to go in to access it. A quick sweep with the droid confirmed that no one was around and V disconnected. She blinked and covered her eyes against the abrupt pain and disorientation of being back in the physical world. It passed after a moment.

With only a few seconds of invisibility from the camera remaining, she darted up the fire escape, slowing down only once she was certain that she was out of site.

“Ah… shit…” V started to wheeze halfway up the building. “Why’d you… hafta… be so… high up!?”

By the time she reached the 24th floor, and confirmed she was indeed by the right window, her legs were cramping.

“Damn, I need to work out if I wanna be big time,” she gasped.

V allowed herself a minute of rest before she tackled the window with her multi-tool, deftly undoing the latch from the outside. She clambered into the room which served as living room and kitchen and headed straight for the bedroom, passing the little droid along the way. “Hey choom, don’t mind me.”

V settled in front of the computer, powered it on, bypassed the login, and scanned through all the files, search history, and emails. The gonk had some questionable taste in porn. A lot of the files and pics were boring everyday-life stuff, but then a dick popped onto the screen and she quickly averted her eyes. Then there came a second one. Unless Mason was unusually gifted, or had gone for a very strange operation, only one of the dicks in the pics was his. He and his lover must have had a little exchange. She snorted at the pic Mason had taken of himself flexing in front of a mirror half-naked. Maybe Mrs Townsend would like these pics for leverage in the future… V copied the pics onto a chip just in case.

Next, she accessed Mason’s accounts and portfolio and switched things around as requested. Cherie Townsend was now the proud owner of apartment 2404 and the Archer Hella. Then V did a little tweaking of his funds, which was going to alert the tax company _and_ Mason’s bank, and bought a questionably large amount of cheap dildo’s (who knew they came in bulk?) in his name to be delivered at his workplace. Enough to make some trouble for the gonk without driving him to jumping under the metro. She didn’t want his blood on her conscience.

Satisfied with the mischief she’d caused, V headed for the nearest drop point, deposited the chip, and sent a message to Kirk: _Client has the apartment and car now. Husband’s gonna have a fun surprise tomorrow. Sending coordinates to a chip with some pics the client might like if she still wants more revenge._

A reply came a minute later. _Nova. Once the client confirms I’ll give a call. Good initiative on the chip._

_Do I get paid extra for initiative and workin fast?_

_Nice try_

Damn.

It would’ve been faster to send the evidence directly to Kirk, but the chip was harder to trace. So with that, V headed for home, proud of what she’d achieved, though she could’ve gone her whole life without seeing all those pics of Mason and his lover naked.

Kirk called when V got home: “Client’s happy and appreciates the chip. Wiring your funds now.”

“Thanks. Remember to tell her the gonk’s gonna get a nice surprise at work tomorrow, she wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

“Sure, whatever. No alarms were tripped according to the client, so you did a decent job.”

“Decent! I was a fucking ghost!”

“You want a gold medal?” Kirk sneered through the speaker. “I might get in touch if I have another job for you.”

The call ended.

V checked her account and her heart leaped at the seven hundred eddies. She could scarcely believe it, she was rich!

V and Jackie met up at El Coyote in the evening, and Jackie was bursting to hear how her job went.

“I was in and out like a fuckin ‘Saka ninja!” V finished recounting.

Jackie laughed deep from his chest and ruffled V’s hair. “Never doubted you hermana! Oi Pepe? Dos tequilas por favor!”

They clinked glasses and tossed back their tequilas.

“Welcome to the merc life V,” Jackie’s eyes sparkled. “When word starts to spread, everyone’ll want you to work for ‘em.”

“Need some upgrades though if I really wanna make it big,” she said thoughtfully.

“We c’n see Vik in the morning. Maybe he’ll hook you up. He’s practically family after all!”

“You just want an excuse to see Misty,” V grinned.

He chuckled. “Don’t need to make excuses for that.”

“You like to act tough but deep down you’re just a big ol softie, aren’t ya?” V punched him lightly.

Jackie shrugged. “I’m a lover not a fighter.”

V snorted. “So you killed those two Tyger Claws the other day outta love?”

Jackie just grinned.

Apparently they weren’t done celebrating though, and Jackie dragged V out to Lizzies. Moxes wielding baseball bats and wearing plastic over their tattooed bodies guarded the entrance. The bar and BD dive was owned by the Mox. 

When V was a little girl she wanted to become a Mox one day, the only all-female gang in Night City. They were her heroes, the champions of women and the downtrodden. As she grew older and more cynical, she realised that they were a gang just like the others. Whatever ideals they might have had at their inception, protecting the dolls, widows, and lost girls of the streets, they've become a business now. How deep the regression went, she didn't know. Was this everyone's fate in Night City? That no matter how strong your convictions, your dreams and ideals, that everyone eventually succumbed to the corrosive effects of the city? Did the city always win?

Techno punk pop blasted deafeningly as blue and violet lights flashed across bodies glistening with sweat, reflected off of chrome limbs, set fire to spiked, chopped, and rainbow hair. Strangers pressed up against V as they all surged and moved in spastic ecstasy to the beat. Her head swam and Jackie kept the drinks coming. She was dancing with a girl with cat eyes and purple lipstick. Then Jackie was there, whooping and punching the air. Where did the girl go? A gonk with green spikes and a net-shirt tried to kiss her and she punched him. Then someone offered her an inhaler, but Jackie pushed it away and shouted over the music: “No, not you! You start that and you’ll be lost forever!”

The next tequila (was it the sixth?) made the world move in slow motion and V felt like she was floating out of her body. She felt panic, distant and far away, like it was happening to someone else. Slowly she made her way to the washrooms, taking each step with care as bodies moved in technicolor blurs around her. She gripped the edge of the sink, and looked up at a reflection that was both her and not her, and unreality threatened to crush her.

“I’m V,” she tried to say, but her lips were unresponsive. Were they even her lips anymore?

“Come on chica, time to go home,” a heavy hand rested on her shoulder. Jackie. She clung to him, big and solid, the only real thing in the madness of the night. 

The next moment Jackie was guiding her through the front door. Home. How did they get here?

“Come on,” Jackie pushed her gently onto the couch. Suddenly there was a glass of water in his hands and V tried to frown but couldn’t feel her face. “Drink.”

Tepid, flavourless liquid rolled down her throat. Her body remembered how to swallow even if her brain didn’t.

V let Jackie move her so that she was lying down. Gravity tried to pull her through the couch. Then something heavy settled over her that smelled a bit musky and of something familiar. Her eyes fell shut of their own accord and a hand stroked her hair back.

“You’re gonna be great V. I got one of my feelin’s; I just know it.”


	5. The Ripper

Vik was a middle-aged man who lived and worked behind Misty’s store, Misty’s Esoterica. It was Vik that V had been brought to when she broke her arm clambering up buildings as a kid. It was also Vik who’d installed her jack. And it was Vic who’d given Jackie his chrome arm. He’d watched Jackie and V grow up, patched them up when they got into scrapes, and came for dinner at Christmases.

The ripperdoc himself sported a clever chrome left hand of which the fingers could switch and transform to become sensitive tools with which he operated. He also had a pair of Kiroshi eyes that enabled him to scan his patients, zoom in on delicate work, switch to infrared to detect body heat, and streamed him information on patient vitals.

When V descended the stairs to Vik’s surgery, she found him in front of the screen watching a boxing match. Once upon a time he was the heavyweight champion of Watson. Now he preferred to lead the quiet life and patch people up.

Jackie was back at Misty’s; V had ducked outta there quickly before the two lovebirds started making googly eyes.

“Hey doc!” V greeted.

Vik looked up, the boxing match reflected in his glasses, and greeted in his deep, gravelly voice, “hey kiddo, what can do for you?”

V hopped onto the other chair and the momentum sent her rolling a few feet. “Had my first gig yesterday!”

Vik’s eyebrows rose. “Congratulations! What was the gig?”

“Simple thievery job. Messed with some accounts.”

Vik smiled. “Just be careful, alright? I already got Jackie coming in here way too often. I love ya, and I love seein ya, but I don’t want to be putting you back together every time you visit.”

“I’ll be careful,” V assured him.

Vik glanced at the screen. “Fuck!”

“You got money on the fight?”

“Nah,” he turned back to her. “Takes the fun outta the game. So what brings you here? Just dropping in to say hello?”

A bit of guilt tugged at V’s gut. “Yes…”

“…and?” he smiled knowingly.

“Was wondering if you could give me some advice? Like a consultation? And maybe some quotes on some of the tech you got?”

He chuckled. “Was wondering when you’d pop in for that.”

“Thing is,” she said sheepishly and looked away.

“Eddies, huh.”

She nodded.

“Okay, how’s about you tell me what you’re looking for?” he folded his hands on his legs and leaned forward.

“I need some hardware and software for running.”

“Hmm. You’d have to get a neural implant, a Fuyutsui MK 1 should be fine to start with. C’n always upgrade. And depending on how serious you are, frontal cortex implants to increase your RAM capacity and some opticals for a live interface. But like I said, the Fuyutsui should be enough if you’re starting out. Just gotta be careful not to overload it or your neurons will fry.”

“How much?” V asked cautiously.

“Five thousand.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

V ran a hand through her hair and racked her brain. To get that money she needed to complete a lot more jobs, but for more serious gigs she needed the implants. And one successful gig didn’t automatically have fixers lining up to call her. She could try klepping, but that was risky without a fixer to sell off the merch, and fixers normally didn’t like it when you went behind their backs.

“Tell you what,” Vik interrupted her thoughts. “You can pay me in instalments, and I’ll install the ware. How’s that?”

V stared at him open mouthed, then launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him and he grunted in surprise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pecked a kiss on his scratchy cheek. “You’re the best, doc!”

Vik pushed his glasses up his nose and avoided her eyes and muttered, “I’m just worried you’ll do something stupid to get the eddies, or go to some scav who’ll do it cheap and botch it”

“I’d only trust you to do it, doc,” V grinned. “You’re the best ripper in all of Night City!”

He chuckled and gently pushed her away. “You haven’t seen all of Night City yet.” Vik got to his feet and went over to the basin where he washed his hands. “Get into the chair so long while I prep.”

“You’re gonna do it now!?”

“Mhm. Sooner you got the tech and get used to it, the sooner you can start paying me back,” he grinned over his shoulder.

V got into the operating chair – which looked a lot like one you’d sit in at the dentist. There was a control panel to her left, and a table with tools to her right. Screens and large lights were attached to the chair’s moveable arms. She watched Vik move about, gathering the necessary tools. He injected something into his left forearm, propranolol for potential tremors, and checked the chrome hand to be certain it was still fully functional. Just his standard routine before an op. He disappeared out of view for a moment, then returned with a little box with _Fuyutsui_ printed on the side. Her heart leapt at getting her first proper cyberware.

“Since it’s neural, I can only give you an anaesthetic. Putting you under is too risky for brain surgery, so you’ll be fully conscious. That okay?”

“’S long as I don’t feel anything,” she giggled nervously.

Vik nodded then examined her head, gently turning it from side to side. He smirked. “Saved me some time with your new style. Just gonna need to shave away a little more.” V waited patiently as Vik applied goo to the shaved side of her head and scraped away the bristles with a razor.

“Saving me a touch up,” she grinned, while trying to remain as still as possible.

Her naked scalp tingled as Vik traced across it with a pen.

“Alright,” said Vik. He then put a vial of anaesthetic in his injector, which looked a bit like a staple gun, checked and adjusted the dosage, felt V’s brachial artery, and placed the injector over it. She felt quick, sharp, pain for less than a second. “Count to ten for me.”

“One, two, three…” V obeyed. By the time she reached ten, she lost all feeling in her body, which didn’t feel too unlike the dissociation she’d experienced last night.

“What’s your name?”

“V?”

“Just checking your operational and cognitive functioning,” he explained. “Gonna keep asking you questions throughout.”

Vik started operating, keeping up a continuous stream of conversation and questions, his flesh and chrome hands working with practiced efficiency. V was glad she couldn’t see what was going on. Fortunately the anaesthetics did their job and she didn’t feel a thing.

Three hours later, V sported a patch on the bald side of her head that would eventually integrate with her skin. There was bandaging over it to keep everything clean and in place. Vik put her through some tests to calibrate the new software. The experience was alien at first, but as the tests progressed V eased into it. She could now perform most calculations with the speed of a computer, interface with electronics instantly, and perform simple programs as quickly as thought without all the input that used to be necessary. This meant that she could crack simple security systems within seconds now, and gave her access to other programs she previously didn’t have. It was as if a whole new world had opened up for her!

Vik placed an inhaler in her hand. “Two doses now and two more every eight hours. If it doesn’t help for the pain and inflammation you need to come back. Keep an eye out for any excessive swelling around the patch, visual disturbances, migraines, and any kind of bleeding. If you experience any of these, come back immediately. And it goes without saying that you should avoid any alcohol and psychoactive substances.”

“Will do,” V nodded and pumped two doses into her lungs. She pocketed the inhaler and got out of the chair. “Thanks Vik. Really. How much for my first down-payment?”

“Two-fifty. Take it easy for the next coupla days, alright?”

“Sure thing doc!”

Grinning like an idiot, V used her brand new implant to instantly transfer €$ 250 to Vik’s account. The irises of his Kiroshis flashed electric blue as he received the money.

“Thanks, kid. Now go get some rest! Doctor’s orders.”

“Bye Vik! And thanks again!”

V returned to Misty’s shop; Jackie and Misty were sitting on bean bags, while Misty studied Jackie’s palm. His hand was gigantic in hers.

Misty was slightly taller than V, with pale skin, and frizzy blonde hair that poofed around her head like a mushroom top. Dark makeup ringed her grey-blue eyes, and her lips were painted dark red. A spiked choker ringed her throat and she wore a ratty, oversized, purple sweater.

“Yo, V!” Jackie grinned. “Vik hooked you up?” his eyes glanced at the bandages.

“Yup. Got a Fuyutsui MK 1 in my noggin now!”

“Ha ha!” Jackie cried.

“Want me to read your palm too, V?” asked Misty in her wispy, faraway voice.

“I’m good for now, thanks. Just thirsty.”

“There’s iced tea in the fridge.”

“Thanks!”

Jackie accompanied V home before returning to Misty. He was taking her to watch some art flick – Misty’s choice of course, but Jackie would do anything for her. The drug Vik had given V made her drowsy and she passed out on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously heavily gamified the surgery process. Even with highly advanced technology etc. I doubt anyone could do delicate neural surgery alone and in a none-sterile environment. The odds of infection and complications are too great.  
> And I don't know enough about neural surgery to give a play-by-play description.  
> I imagine that the magical inhaler Vik gave her would contain painkillers, anti-inflammatories, and immune suppressants (so that her body doesn't reject the implant). I.r.l. we don't have the technology to have these kinds of drugs as inhalants yet (has to do with particle size and the surface area of the lungs), much less as a single combination. But, that's the beauty of fiction!  
> So let's all pretend together that it's perfectly safe to operate on an organic creature like they're a car going for a tune-up.


	6. The Rat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow uploads, I had to work this weekend and it was insanely busy. Hopefully I can keep a steady flow going in the coming week.
> 
> Just one small note on the chapter: I decided to combine the characters of Abernathy and Meredith Stout, because I really liked Meredith in the game as a character concept and wished there'd been more.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

Marcus stood on the roof of his apartment, half-naked in swim shorts, sipping a glass of Nitida merlot. He’d wanted a beer, but Neil would kill him over the carbs. He stared out at Night City, feeling like a king. He rarely got the chance to just be, so he relished it. He disabled his UI, set the wine glass down, and dove into the pool behind him. The cool water embraced him, washed away all the stress, anxiety, and dirt of the city. He swam a few laps, then floated and stared up at the starless sky.

Part of him wished it could always be like this. Quiet. With no pressing meetings, no pressure from above, no constant watching over his shoulder for the next prick after his job. He sent a command to the home sound system, and the soft, soothing tones of Clair de Lune started to play.

Marcus had been very busy the past six months; fuelled by adrenaline, caffeine, and methylphenidate, he’d been collecting intel on Abernathy and drip feeding it to Jenkins. He enjoyed keeping him on a leash. It had been easy to find Abernathy’s address up in North Oaks, and to create a rough schedule of her life. That was the thing about corpos, they liked structure and to feel in control, which made them predictable. He knew everything about her: where her grandparents were from, her favourite sushi, the identity of her lover, the name of her lover’s husband,

In secret, Marcus had also been digging up on Jenkins, and unsurprisingly found a lot of dirt: coverups, failed takeovers, several citations of sexual harassment, and the murder of a doll that had been swept under the rug.

Jenkins was becoming impatient and increasingly unpredictable. Marcus might be forced to act soon. His plans were mostly in place, it was just a matter of smoothing out the kinks.

But just for tonight, he wanted to forget about Jenkins, about Abernathy, about Arasaka and Frankfurt and the whole fucking lot of them. Things will be better once he’s on top, he assured himself. Things will be better.

And hour later Marcus heaved himself out of the pool, dried off, took a long, steaming shower, and wandered around his apartment for half an hour.

The place looked like a show house from City Living. All the furniture was modern and minimalistic – all light metals, crystal lattices, and expensive wood. There was nothing personal about it, no pictures or nick knacks, nothing to show who lived there. Just a shell with some expensive furniture and appliances.

A notification pinged in Marcus’s ear. He deliberated a few seconds on whether or not to ignore it, but couldn’t help himself.

It was Jenkins.

With a heavy sigh he read: _My office now_

Marcus rubbed his eyes. There went his evening off.

Suited in a silk white shirt and dove-grey jacket and slacks, Marcus drove to Arasaka Tower in his Banshee with a growing sense of apprehension. A headache started to build in his temples.

The plaza was truly beautiful at night with all the bright lights, Arasaka Tower a gleaming white beacon, the holo koi performing their graceful dance high in the air. A pity he couldn’t enjoy it.

When Marcus arrived, Jenkins was pacing like a madman and sucking at a cigarette as if his life depended on it. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his hair was unkempt. He looked at Marcus with crazed eyes and ran the hand holding the cigarette through his dishevelled hair and Marcus held his breath to see if it would catch fire.

“What’s the matter?” asked Marcus.

“We have to move on Abernathy.”

Marcus wasn’t surprised, but his cortisol levels rose nonetheless. He remained composed. “Has something happened?”

“Just a feeling,” Jenkins waved. “She’s planning something; I can feel the bitch breathing down my neck. We need to strike first, and hard.”

“I don’t know if—”

“For fuck’s sake Marcus!” Jenkins screamed. “Stop pussyfooting! It’s time to move! We’ve been at this for months now!”

“Because what you’re suggesting is treason, and if we make one wrong move we’re fucked. Royally fucked. We need to consider all our options, have all our bases covered.” Inside, Marcus knew his time was up. No more stalling and dragging things out. Either he was going through with it or not.

“But if we don’t do something now, Abernathy will get me first!” Jenkins came close, stinking of cigarettes and old booze. He gripped Marcus’s jacket. “You’re the only one I can trust.”

Marcus regarded Jenkins with disguised revulsion. The man was breaking, if he hasn’t broken yet. It was only a matter of time.

“What did you have in mind?”

Jenkins stuck the cigarette in his mouth and hurried over to his desk. From the top drawer he drew out a thick wad of money – hard, physical, Eurodollars – harder to trace than a credit chip or virtual transfer.

“I’m trusting you to hire someone – completely untouched by Arasaka. They have to be good, quick, efficient. We can’t have any mistakes, no loose ends. This can’t come back to us, understand?”

Marcus picked up the money, enjoyed the weight of it in his hand, and nodded. “I understand.”

Jenkins stared up at him with the look of a drowning man who’s spotted his rescuer. “Good, good. How soon can you get it done?”

“Give me a week.”

Jenkins nodded rapidly and turned away, his eyes glazing over.

Marcus took this as his dismissal. He tucked the money inside his jacket and headed for the elevator. Neurons fired as his thoughts raced along enhanced pathways. Adrenaline flooded his veins and set his heart pumping hard. A notification popped up in the upper left of his vision to inform him of his elevated stress levels, and suggested he take a dose of lorazepam. He dismissed it. He needed the edge now, needed the lighting thoughts, needed to act.

He pushed the Banshee far past the legal speed limit, the roar of the engine fuelled the rush in his body as he tore through the streets. Alerts informed him that he was breaking the law and endangering himself. He disregarded them.

Marcus had to consider his next step carefully. He was walking along a knife’s edge and the wrong move could see him fall, or worse.

He slowed to cruising speed, pulled up his contact list, and thought a message.

_I have information that will interest you._

He didn’t have to wait long for a response.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Abernathy barked in Marcus’s ear.

“Actually, no.” He looked at the digital clock in his periphery. 01:32. “But this sort of thing can’t wait.”

Silence.

“Fine. Meet me at Huamin’s in ten.”

Marcus’s pulse jumped. There was no turning back now.

He drove to the sushi bar in Little China, keeping tabs on if he was being followed. Night City never truly slept. Day or night, there were always cars and people out on the streets.

Abernathy waited for Marcus at a table inside. He identified two Japanese gentlemen at the nearby table as her bodyguards. She looked immaculate, her blonde hair swept back, makeup subtle and classy, wearing a navy blazer and crisp-white blouse; he doubted that she’d been asleep when he’d sent his message. He sat down opposite her. Her grey eyes regarded him coldly. He could barely see the seams of her implants in her otherwise flawless skin. Abernathy waved to one of the Huamin staff without taking her eyes off of Marcus, and a small Chinese woman placed a tray with two cups and a steaming pot of jasmine tea between them. Marcus reached out and poured for each of them.

“This place clean?” he asked conversationally as he passed Abernathy her cup.

“We swept it.” She blew on her tea and sipped. “Now talk.”

“Jenkins ordered a hit on you.”

She raised a groomed eyebrow.

“I know because he asked me to organise it,” Marcus continued.

“So you’re blowing the whistle?” Abernathy slowly placed her cup down.

“Yes and no.”

“Do you have proof?” she asked.

“Of the hit, no. Only my word, and this,” he opened his jacket far enough for her to see the stack of Eurodollars.

“Not enough to have him convicted.”

“No,” he agreed and took another sip. “But we both know that’s not a problem for you. Evidence or no, you’ll have him gone.”

“Why are you telling me this? What are you hoping to gain?” she narrowed her eyes.

“Jenkins’ job. He’s an idiot and he’s losing the plot, fast. If he did manage to take you out and become director, I would’ve gotten his job anyway, but how long would it take for him to drive our division into the ground? Frankfurt will look like a mild shower of rain compared to the shit storm he would cause. He only got to where he is because he bullied, bought, and fucked his way there.”

“Don’t tell me it’s loyalty to the company that’s making you turn against your boss,” Abernathy snorted.

“I’m loyal to good salary and a comfortable job that covers my Trauma Team membership, and Jenkins will destroy that. I can do his job, and I can do it far better and more efficiently than him. I have been for the past year.”

“How do you know I won’t go to Jenkins and tell him his protégé is a rat?”

“Because you’re not stupid.”

Her expression hardened.

“And I’m good at my job. Very good. I know what happened in Frankfurt. We have a mole, and I know who they are. I’ll give you the name in exchange for Jenkins’ job.”

For the first time, Abernathy’s cool expression shifted. She regarded him with renewed interest.

“I also know how to get rid of Jenkins without him ending up in a trash heap with a bullet in his head.”

Abernathy didn’t say anything, so he brought out the chip he’d been hiding and slid it to her. “Jenkins’ behaviour has become more unstable and erratic lately. Could be the early symptoms of cyberpsychosis,” he said emphatically. “And with no cure on the horizon, we have no choice but to report him, for his, and everyone else’s safety.” He patted the chip then pulled his hand back.

A small smile played around her mouth. “Alright Jastrzebski. I’ll be in touch.”

Abernathy’s cold eyes flicked to her bodyguards and they rose. Marcus watched them leave as he sipped his tea. When he finished, he paid for the tea and left a significant tip before leaving. His nerves were still jumpy and he clenched his hands to keep them from trembling.

Now all he could do was wait and see what the next few hours brought.


	7. The Medtech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some New Vegas references heading your way! Just because I wanted to and it weirdly suited the setting of the chapter.
> 
> These first few chapters were mostly introductory, but the one after this should kick off the main story.

It turned out that Dodger’s specific set of skills were in demand in Night City. Everyone wanted a driver with a Nomad’s skills, but not everyone wanted to or could afford to pay the premium that came with a clan name. Since Dodger was without a clan, she was in a unique position of being both a valuable asset and an easy target. Through word of mouth, she was rarely out of a job though. She’d even managed to get herself a decent little apartment in Watson, a place to put her feet up when she wasn’t zipping about.

Dodger tried to stay busy. When she was working, there was little time to think, little time to reminisce. The waiting in between was agony. None of the millions of distractions of Night City appealed to her.

Today was a slow day, and Dodger tried to occupy her thoughts by watching TV. It was all trash, so she gave up and did some exercises in the middle of her sparsely furnished living space. Spending so many hours on the road, she was careful to keep her body fit and healthy. Plus, it helped to be able to fight back in case some gonks or gangoons got stupid ideas.

A tone went off in Dodger’s head and she answered it while balancing on one leg, torso parallel to the floor with her arms spread out.

“Dodger.”

“Hey Dodger, it’s Regina. Got a supply run gig if you’re interested. It’s a big one though, and dangerous.”

“What am I running?” Dodger asked. She drew the line at humans and hard-core drugs like dorphs and crystal.

“Antibiotics and vaccines to New Vegas. There’s currently a shortage.”

“There’s always a shortage.”

The majority of antibiotics have become ineffective since the 2050’s because of how bacteria have evolved and became resistant. The eighth generation of antibiotics were incredibly expensive to make, and Tempel Pharmaceuticals kept the formula a strict secret, essentially controlling the market so that only the rich could afford treatment.

“Where am I taking it?” Dodger frowned. Antibiotics was arguably the most dangerous contraband to run. Is she were caught with it, she would get executed without a trial.

“Underground clinic. I’ll send you the coordinates, it’s not on any official maps.”

Dodger’s curiosity was piqued. The client had probably stolen a shipment and was looking to sell on the black market. The run to New Vegas wasn’t going to be easy though. The main roads were watched, and the smuggling routes weren’t much safer. Nearly every corporation in Northern California had drones, AV’s, satellites, and private military patrolling all the official and non-offical routes, with the aim to catch smugglers like her. Companies lost millions every year to smuggling and piracy; a drop in the ocean for the big organizations like Biotech and Arasaka, but if there’s one thing a corpo doesn’t like, it’s losing money.

It was a challenge, and Dodger just couldn’t resist it.

“Yeah, okay. Send me the deets and set it up.

“Will do. Good luck Dodger.”

“Thanks.”

Dodger drove in through the back entrance of Stuart Hospital, where all the deliveries were made. She’d been provided with a uniform with CJ Couriers printed on the front, CJ Couriers decals to put on her car, as well as paperwork and instructions for the guards at the gate. She got in without a hitch. She expected some suited corpo with a mini-army of bodyguards to meet her, but was instead approached by a woman with flaming red hair, standing at least six feet tall, Dr H. Phoenix printed on the tag on her coat.

“Dodger,” the tall woman smiled and offered her hand. She spoke in some kind of English accent, Welsh maybe? “I’m Phoenix, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dodger shook her hand, feeling confused but not showing it. “Hey.”

“The stock’s just over here,” Phoenix walked to a modest little Thorton and pulled a large box out of the trunk. “The cold chain needs to be preserved otherwise the vaccines will no longer be viable.”

“Got it. I’ll be quick.”

Phoenix nodded and they packed the box into Dodger’s modified Archer – it had been her payment for a gig and heavily modified for running goods across country.

“Listen,” said Phoenix in a low, grave voice. “I know you’re risking your life here, but I’m incredibly grateful for what you’re doing. A lot of people need this. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Dodger quickly. “I haven’t gotten the goods there yet. Anything could happen along the way.”

Guilt twisted the medtech’s features. “I know and I’m sorry. The fact that you’re willing to help already means a lot. And old friend, Dr Kumar, will meet you at the coordinates.”

“Got it. See you on the other side doc.”

“Take care!” said Phoenix and anxiously watched as Dodger drove away.

Something about this gig was too good to be true. No way a medtech would risk their career smuggling stolen drugs to those less fortunate. Not in real life. There had to be some catch. Perhaps this Dr Kumar was going to sell the merch. Nothing in life was free, much less healthcare.

Dodger ditched the CJ Couriers disguise at a safehouse and checked her Lexington’s clip. She’d lose badly if there was to be a firefight, but she felt better having it strapped to the side of her seat.

She waited until nightfall to depart. Even though the patrols would be expecting this, it still made her harder to spot by visual. She exited the city without a problem, not that she’d been worried about it. The real trouble lay ahead. To avoid the drones around the city outskirts, Dodger headed through the sun farm, a tactic that had helped her in the past. There was too much noise on the air to pick up her little blip. Once the sun farm was behind, Dodger left the main road and the Archer bounced, rattled, and bounded across the scrubs and uneven terrain. She’d switched off the headlights and her optics changed to nightvision, painting the world in an ugly green wash. She searched the air and the ground and constantly glanced at her two radars, one set to pick up heat signatures, and the other comm waves. The Archer wove patterns across the desert as she skirted around the paths of drones and the occasional patrol. On one occasion she had to turn off the engine and wait in the shadow of an outcrop as a small convoy passed only half a mile away.

But Dodger was grinning, her heart soaring. Out here, she was free. She relished the game of hide and seek, the thrill of a narrow escape better than any chemically induced high.

Four hours into the run, Dodger picked up a blip on the infra scanner. It was small, likely a drone. She changed directions for a few miles, but the blip remained. The next moment her radars lit up.

“Fuck!”

The Archer kicked up a wall of dust as she made a hard turn to the east, narrowly avoiding the spray of bullets from the three drones that appeared out of nowhere. The huge clouds of dust heading her way betrayed the vehicles of four hunters in pursuit – big, armoured, all-terrain machines designed for warfare. The Archer’s armour pinged as more bullet-rain followed. Dodger slalomed across the terrain and hiccoughed as the Archer briefly took flight off of a ridge. The ground exploded to her right, rocking the car’s frame.

“ _Fuck_.”

Dodger flicked a switch on her steering wheel and released a thermal decoy behind her. It would confuse the targeting systems a bit and give her a few seconds.

_Think damnit!_

She might be able to outrun the cars, but the drones were a problem and she had nothing to hit them with. All she had were smoke screens and decoys. If she’d been doing a run for her clan, she would’ve had at least two other cars with her that could provide distractions, and one would’ve had a mounted turret. But Dodger was alone with a fortune’s worth of antibiotics and vaccines in her trunk. If she could just break line of sight…

Dodger brought up a topographical map and studied it in between wrestling with the Archer across the unforgiving terrain, and avoiding missiles. The thing about deserts, there wasn’t a fucking lot going on.

The second, and final, thermal decoy got released.

_Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck, fuckity, FUCK._

And then an idea blossomed and Dodger burst out laughing. It was stupid, dangerous as fuck, and would probably get her killed by the mounted turrets, as opposed to getting killed by a missile from one of the drones, or getting caught and executed.

Dodger wrenched the steering wheel around. The tires skidded then found their grip and she raced toward the armoured military vehicles. No panzer at least. The vehicles retaliated with machine gun fire and she ducked her head. Just short of a collision, she pulled the wheel again and darted sideways past the front vehicle’s nose, then quickly turned the other way and deftly pirouetted around them. Brakes screamed as they attempted to correct their course, but their vehicles were larger, heavier, less manoeuvrable; they risked tipping over if they turned too fast too sharp. Dust choked the air and Dodger instinctively squinted. There was an explosion right behind her, and with a feral grin she watched one of the vehicles tip onto its side in her rearview, the blast from the drone had been just close enough to upset its equilibrium. The Archer made a full rotation of the military vehicles and one of the drones’ missiles caught the heavily armour hide of one of them. The hunters caught on and spread out, but Dodger was smaller and quicker. She darted around the hunters, their cumbersome frames unable to keep up with her and avoid their own drowns at the same time. Another hunter teetered on its left side and nearly tipped over. Dodger cried out in triumph as the blips of the drones disappeared from her radars. As soon as they deactivated, she went full throttle and tore across the desert. The hunters quickly receded into the distance.

The remainder of the trip Dodger managed to avoid being detected again. The first tinges of dawn touched the horizon as she neared the coordinates about twenty-two miles outside New Vegas’s city limits. From a distance it looked like any of the hundreds of abandoned towns across the country, but as she got closer she started seeing the signs of life; a face peering from a window here, a battered old car parked back there. She stopped outside the church hall where a Chevillon was parked. The church itself was boarded up with a hole gaping in the roof. Dodger did a quick scan of her surroundings, strapped on the Lexington, and got out.

A neatly dressed man with thick, black hair emerged from the church hall. His teeth flashed white as he smiled.

“You must be my courier!” he threw his arms wide.

“Dr Kumar I presume?”

His irises flashed electric blue for a second and his identification appeared in Dodger’s vision. Dodger went around to her trunk in response an opened it up. Dr Kumar leaned in eagerly and she waited as he checked the condition of the antibiotics and the integrity of the vaccines.

“It’s all here!” he beamed at her. “Thank you so much! We really needed this, you’re a hero.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Well you just saved a few lives. Come, would you like to see the clinic?”

The adrenaline was wearing off and Dodger felt the heavy exhaustion of the trip settle on her. “Uh, sure. But I’d rather find somewhere to catch some sleep.”

“Oh, of course!” Dr Kumar pressed a palm to his forehead. “I’m so sorry. Let me get these inside then I will show you where you can sleep.”

Dodger followed the doctor into the church hall where a field clinic of sorts was set up. There were twenty beds, with only three of them empty. A young woman was checking their IV’s one by one.

“Guess what just came through!” Dr Kumar announced and raised the box like a trophy.

“Thank God,” sighed the woman. Her face was pale and drawn, but some of the exhaustion faded. She clutched the hand of the woman she was checking on, “you hear that Tess? Your meds came through!”

Dodger studied the clinic with a sense of unreality. Was she dreaming?

“What is this place?” she asked Dr Kumar as she watched him store the vaccines in a refrigerator at the back.

“It’s one of Phoenix’s clinics.”

“And you treat people for free?” she raised an eyebrow.

Dr Kumar straightened up. “It was all Phoenix’s initiative. She believes healthcare should be accessible by all, and when she failed to implement it through the official channels—”

“She went underground.”

Dr Kumar nodded. “We get recourses where we can. There are a few others, like us, who want to help. One of our clinics in Atlanta got raided recently, so we need to be extra careful.”

“So you and the woman…?”

“Dr Vlakos. We’re volunteers. Phoenix and I studied together, we’re old friends. I couldn’t turn her down when she came to me with her idea. We have one other volunteer, Cecil, but he’s taking some much needed rest.”

“Wow,” was all Dodger managed. “How do you manage?”

“Most of the time…?” he gave her a mildly anxious look. “But it’s something at least. Your delivery today made a huge difference. We had an outbreak of influenza in the city and this will help a few lucky souls.”

Dodger just followed him speechlessly. Free healthcare, what an idea.

Dodger had passed out in a tiny room in one of the few houses that was being maintained. The window was thrown wide open for some futile relief against the desert heat. When she woke, her throat ached from the dry air. She was mildly surprised to see a bottle of water and a protein bar outside her bedroom door. Part of her felt like running from this alien place. She wasn’t used to this selflessness, this sense of community. Not outside of her clan at least. She peeked in at the clinic and watched as Dr Kumar listened to a little boy’s breathing.

“Hey, Dr Kumar?” she approached.

“Dodger! Good afternoon! Did you sleep well?” he grinned at her. The little boy blinked up at her with red-rimmed eyes and a snotty nose.

“Well enough thanks. I’m gonna head back now. Is there anything you need me to take back?”

He considered. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Preem. Uh, well, if you ever need anything couriered, just give me a call.”

He gave her a look of deepest gratitude. “Thank you. That means a lot. We need more people, people we can trust.”

Dodger left the clinic behind, got into the Archer, and sat for a minute. Eventually she started the engine and took off. This time she used the official road between New Vegas and Night City. She got stopped three times along the way, but with nothing to hide or declare she passed unscathed.

Back at her apartment she sent a message to Regina.

_Merch delivered. Client’s welcome to check with her contact._

She paused.

_Tell her to keep my cut._

Regina’s answered followed shortly.

_Great job. You sure?_

_Yeah. I’m sure._


	8. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic imagery ahead.

**One year later**

“Whoa, man, somethin ‘bout this job’s givin me the willies,” Jackie shivered.

“Goin squish on me Jack?” V patted his shoulder.

“Eyes and ears open guys, no messin around,” said Dodger sharply.

The three of them were in Dodger’s Archer in the underground parking garage of what was supposed to be a condemned apartment building out in Japantown. Dodger scanned the garage shrewdly, and Jackie checked his gold-plated pistols.

“You pickin up anything?” Dodger asked V.

“Not yet. Our chica is somewhere inside; I’m guessin a few floors up. Get me to an access point and I’ll know for sure.”

Dodger’s breath whistled through her mouth. “Wakako give us anything to go on?”

Jackie scoffed and in a higher pitch, which was supposed to be an imitation of the Empress of Japantown’s voice, said: “What do I pay you for? I’m not your mother!”

Dodger nodded grimly.

“Come on, let’s go,” V said from the backseat, antsy to get going.

She opened the door and was about to get out of the car, when Jackie took her arm. “Hey, be careful in there, alright? I got your back, but anything c’n happen.”

V met his serious gaze and nodded.

Jackie and Dodger got their pistols out and the three of them crept toward the stairwell. Just off of it was a maintenance room, and V could access the local network. She dove into the NET and navigated the corridors made up of numbers and codes. She did so quietly, wary of any ICE lurking around. There was some protection, but not very sophisticated, simple watchdogs that she skirted around. Finally, something lit up and she traced the activity to its source.

“Twelfth floor,” said V as soon as she returned to the meatworld. “Lot of activity up there; place is practically humming.”

“You find our vic?” asked Dodger.

V shook her head. “If Sandra Dorsett’s still alive, she’s offline.”

“She’s alive,” said Jackie grimly. “We’ll find her.”

“Bozos don’t have any cameras, so we’ll be goin in blind,” V added.

Dodger pursed her lips, but Jackie shrugged. “Then we do it the old fashioned way. Dale vamos.”

They snuck up the stairwell, Jackie’s large frame in the lead and Dodger taking the rear. The building was eerily quiet, but for the occasional sounds of its concrete bones settling. None of Night City’s usual bustle pierce its walls and the silence pressed heavily on V’s ears.

It felt like they were ascending for hours, when they finally reached the landing of the twelfth floor. Far off they could hear the muffled bass of music. There was definitely life here. They shuffled down the corridor and followed the _oomf oomf_ to the door of 1237. Dodger pressed her back against the wall by the door, and Jackie sidled up behind V as she bypassed the electronic lock. She held her breath as the door _whooshed_ open. Jackie’s pistols appeared over her shoulders and scanned the empty entryway. He signalled, and Dodger crept inside. V and Jackie followed close behind.

At first it appeared like any ordinary, rundown apartment; stains in the carpet, empty beer cans on the counters, plates growing crusty in the sink, techno-punk pulsing from somewhere; until they passed beyond the kitchen. The room has been enlarged, the walls to the adjacent apartment knocked down for more space. Bloodstains, nearly black now, smeared across the floor and coated medical instruments in a dirty tray. A bank of monitors and computers lined the far wall. And in the centre of the room, on a makeshift operating table, lay a woman’s corpse.

The body was stripped naked, she’d been disembowelled and her chest yawned open.

“ _Dios mio,”_ Jackie cursed under his breath.

“ _Fuck,”_ V shared his sentiment, feeling sick to her stomach and her skin crawled.

“ _Is it her? Is it Sandra?”_ whispered Dodger, keeping a careful distance from the body.

Jack and Dodger turned to V, and she swallowed. Slowly she approached the body, even though her every instinct screamed _run_. She did a quick scan but couldn’t come up with an identity. So she turned instead to what little implants have not been stripped.

“No,” murmured V and quickly turned away. “This one’s got black market tech. Our vic would have preem stuff.”

Jackie gave her a concerned look.

“Still good,” she assured him, though it felt like a lie.

“Come on, let’s get these scav fuckers,” he growled.

They ventured further into the shop of horrors. V could scarcely believe her eyes. It was like a fucking butchery in here, human bodies spread out on surfaces, hanging from meat hooks, cut up and harvested. There was zero trace of Jackie’s humour left. Dodger looked as pale as V felt. That she hasn’t thrown up yet was a miracle.

“Hold up,” V hissed as she caught a sound. The other two froze. Jackie’s eyes flashed red as he scanned with infrared.

“Two pendejos ahead. Other room.” He nodded at Dodger, and the two of them snuck forward.

Jackie eased the door open, and V could just make out one of the scavs washing their bloodied arms and hands in a basin. The fucker was actually _whistling_. Dodger ducked out of sight and Jackie made his way to the scav by the basin. Despite his size, Jackie moved with silent, deliberate ease as he cracked the man’s skull open then caught him before he dropped. He carefully laid the scav down with murder on his face. He then signalled for V to come in. Dodger dealt with the other scav just as swiftly. The scavs’ fronts were wet with fresh blood, their victim on a table behind them. The victim’s implants lay in a pool of blood in a tray. It was a man; not their client.

They pressed against the walls and pricked their ears. The music was loudest in the room beyond, and voices spoke incoherently. V could see the fury burning in Jackie’s eyes, could read his thoughts without trying. He desperately wanted to burst in and unload his bullets into every motherfucker – and probably would have if V wasn’t there. Part of her wanted it too, but they didn’t know how many waited on the other side.

Jackie’s eyes flashed red again. “Mierda,” he whispered. “Six.”

“Can we take ‘em?” asked Dodger.

“Dunno,” replied Jackie. “Can’t tell what they’re packin.”

“I can provide some distractions,” offered V and nodded at the computer nearby.

Jackie and Dodger looked at each other. “Okay.”

V crawled to the computer, jacked in, and swept past the firewalls. She followed the NET to a computer in the next room. She didn’t have a camera, but she had other tools to play with. First, she turned up the volume of the sound system until it was nearly deafening, and in the same instant took out all the lights. She couldn’t hear the sounds of dismay coming from the other room, but heard Jackie and Dodger enter. As soon as someone tried messing with the sound system, she completely overloaded it and it exploded. This time she heard the shouts. Then some shots. She unjacked, drew her pistol, and crept into the room.

With unmodded eyes, it took a moment for V to adjust. Against the back wall, where the sound system had been, was a large, black scorch mark. A man clutched his head and writhed on the floor in front of it, blood pooling from his ears. Stupid gonk had been jacked into the system when it blew. Three others lay dead, while another squirmed and clutched at where his leg had been, before Jackie blew his head off. The last scav sent blind shots from around the couch, but Jacket leaped over it and delivered a swift execution.

“We gotta move fast, I bet ya a thousand eddies there’s more of these fuckers crawlin in the walls,” snapped Jackie.

They ran past the carnage they’d caused and peeked in through the next door. A corridor split off before them. They each picked a room and headed in. V heard two more shots coming from Jackie’s direction. Her pulse raced as she scanned the room. Nothing but a broken bed and dirty bedclothes.

“V! In here,” called Dodger.

V raced out and joined Dodger in a bathroom. The tub was overflowing and two, pale bodies floated in it amidst hundreds of cubes of melting ice. Dodger’s face reflected V’s horror.

They were a man and a woman, stripped of clothes and their hair shaved. V reached out slowly, feeling like she was trapped in some psycho nightmare, and checked their pulses, internally recoiling at the touch of their cold flesh. The man was dead, but the woman was still alive, though her pulse was very faint and fluttering. They hadn’t cut into them yet; had probably put them on ice to keep them fresh.

“Think it’s her?” Dodger asked hoarsely.

V forced her revulsion down and pulled the woman’s body up, her arms and hands went numb in contact with the freezing water. The implant seams on the woman’s chest and face looked very neat; she’d been worked on by a professional. But V had to check and know for sure. She took another deep breath and tried to clear her mind. _It’s just a job. It’s just a job._ V drew out her neural link and jacked the cord into the plug behind the woman’s ear as she tried not to think about what she was doing. Most of the systems were offline, but then V found the biomonitor.

**Sandra Dorsett. NC570442. Condition Critical. Trauma Team link system offline.**

“Somethin’s jamming the biomon,” said V. “Explains why Trauma Team haven’t already burst in.”

“Can you unjam it?” snapped Dodger, her eyes darted between V and the door.

“Gimme a sec.”

It took some probing, but V finally found the virus coiled around the software. She wrestled with it and managed to unravel it enough to blast it with ICE.

“Greetings Sandra Dorsett,” a cool, efficient, female voice spoke in V’s head. “If you are conscious, assume the recovery position. An emergency evacuation unit has been dispatched and are en route to your location. Estimated time of arrival: three minutes.”

V unjacked and shook herself physically and mentally. “Fixed it. Trauma Team’s on their way.”

“Let’s get her out of this at least,” Dodger grimaced. “Jackie! How we lookin?”

“Got some activity on the way!”

“Fuck!” Dodger and V looked at each other.

“There’s a balcony on the west side. If we can get her out there it’ll be easier for Trauma to access.”

Dodger nodded tersely. “You got that Jack?”

“Si!”

“Need you to carry her,” called V. “I’ll help cover you!”

Jackie hurried in and scooped up Sandra Dorsett, who looked like a sad, broken doll in his arms. “Which way?”

V headed out first, pistol raised. She’d memorised the floor plan of the building. It was outdated, but the balcony and exit should still be there. Dodger covered their rear. They could hear footsteps rushing their way.

“Through here!” V waited outside the bedroom door as Jackie went ahead. The balcony was just on the other side.

“Shit,” spat Dodger and ducked inside as a bullet whizzed past.

V peeked around the wall and three scavs ran into the other room. She let off a few rounds and ducked back. “Where the fuck are they!?”

“Fuck!” Dodger clutched her shoulder and blood leaked from between her fingers.

“You okay!?” cried V.

“I’ll live.”

V took down one of the scavs, and emptied her clip. A low droning sound pressed on her eardrums and got steadily louder. Trauma Team was here. The scavs heard it too, decided to cut their losses and scattered. V and Dodger headed for the balcony, their pistols still trained on where they came from. When they emerged outside, an armoured AV with Trauma Team stencilled in white on the sides hovered alongside the balcony.

“Drop your weapons!” a voice blared from the AV. “And put the patient down!”

V and Dodger carefully placed their pistols on the ground and raised their hands. Jackie gently put Sandra down.

“Back away with your hands in the air!”

Jackie did as they asked and joined the other two. Medtechs in full battle gear emerged from the AV. Three of them kept their automatic weapons trained on them, as two others brought out a stretcher, secured Sandra’s body, and fixed an oxygen supply to her face. They carried her in and the armed medtechs followed. The door slid shut and the AV droned off toward Stuart Hospital.

“Fuuuuck,” sighed Jackie after a spell of silence. “May we never get a job like that again.” He turned to V. “How you holdin up?”

“Probably won’t sleep for the next few weeks.”

“Neither will Sandra Dorsett,” said Dodger in a hollow voice.

“At least we saved her and took down a few putas with it,” he replied.

“Your arm,” V remembered and looked at Dodger’s wound.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Here,” Jackie came over and pulled an inhaler from his pocket.

Dodger thanked him and took a puff of the painkiller. They found some bandages inside, and patched her up before they wordlessly left the carnage behind and took the stairs back to the garage.

“Where am I dropping you?” asked Dodger and started the engine.

“V’s apartment,” Jackie answered. “You mind if I clean up at your place, hermana?”

“Not at all,” replied V. “You’re welcome too, Dodge. I got some vodka, we could all use a drink.”

Dodger looked ahead as she deliberated. “Know what, a drink doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Will you let Wakako know?”

“Sure.” V pulled out her phone, and it barely started to ring before Wakako answered.

“V. How did it go? Is our client alive?” asked Wakako in a her sharp, efficient way.

“Uh, technically, yes. Trauma Team picked her up. I removed the jam from her biomon.”

“Excellent. I shall wire your payment shortly. I also have an additional reward for you, come by when you can. I’d advise you to hurry home though, the NCPD is closing Watson. If you want to make it past the cordon you better be quick.”

“Thanks for the heads up Wakako. See you when it’s lifted.”

The call ended and V informed the others of the lockdown.

“Ah shit,” Jackie groaned. “I had a date with Misty tonight!”

“Yeah, well I’d be happy just to sleep in my own bed tonight.” V rested her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Images of mutilated bodies floated across her mind’s eye.

“Just leave it to me,” Dodger’s jaw tightened.

The Archer shot from the garage and Dodger drifted it into traffic. She shifted gears and wove in and out among the cars, not stopping for red lights, and avoided collisions like a pro. Driving with Dodger was an experience and V marvelled at her skill.

Jackie turned on the car radio and GR4VES by Konrad OldMoney played. The dark lyrics and heavy beat resonated with V’s soul and she sunk into it as they drove through the streets reflecting neon signs.

She opened her eyes when she felt the car slow down and saw they were passing across the bridge to Watson, the NCPD roadblock just up ahead. Four armoured police vans blocked the way and they even had a sentinel parked on the side.

A police woman approached as Dodger brought the Archer to a stop. She pulled the window down and the police officer leaned in.

“Watson’s under lockdown until further notice.”

“Understood officer, we’re just heading home,” said Dodger.

Jackie leaned past her and smiled widely at the officer. “Officer, ma’am! Man are we lucky we ran into you!”

“Really?” she smirked. “And why’s that?”

“A heart ‘o gold! Because I know you’d understand how much I need to get back to my girl.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah she’s gonna be worried sick if I don’t show! I mean, I’m tryin to be a stand-up guy, putting in the extra shifts, workin my ass off. She’s already givin me a second chance and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

“What a shame,” said the officer. “What about these two?”

“Jus’ seein my sisters home safe.”

“Listen,” Dodger chimed in. “I know he’s got an ugly mug, but he’s really a good guy.”

The officer stared at them for a few seconds, then straightened up. “Let them through. But they’re the last.” Through the window she called. “Be on your way, and treat your girl right.”

“Thank you!” Jackie beamed his most angelic smile. “You have a good evening now officer… ma’am!”

Once they were past the cordon, V burst out laughing and Jackie scowled at Dodger. “Ugly!?”

“Saved by the Jackie Welles charm!” V laughed and squeezed his massive shoulder.

Dodger smirked. “Was just trying to help, _brother_.”

Jackie shrugged. “What can I say? I won her over with my loyalty and steadfastness.”

“Only one problem though,” said V, “Misty’s over in Heywood. No way you can charm your way through the blockade twice.”

“Don’t doubt my ways V,” Jackie raised a finger.

V raised her hands in response.

They passed through Kabuki, and then Little China, when a MaxTac AV zoomed overhead.

“Somethin serious is goin down,” remarked Jackie as he peered after it. “Wonder what pendejos are in their sights tonight.”

V had moved into a tiny apartment at Megabuilding H8 three months ago, coincidentally only fifteen minutes away from where Dodger lived. Mama had been indignant when V announced she was moving out, but acquiesced when V promised to visit every weekend at the very least. No way she was going to miss out on free meals!

Dodger parked her Archer out front and V led them past the stalls selling food, pirated BDs, and knockoff brand shirts on the building’s doorstep. They took the elevator up and V let them inside. Jackie excused himself to the bathroom where the hiss of the faucet soon followed. V turned on Morro Rock Radio, and poured vodka shots for the three of them.

“To a successful gig,” V grinned and handed Dodger a glass.

“To fucking over scavs,” Dodger nodded.

“Salud,” V toasted and threw the liquor back.

“Prost,” Dodger copied her.

They settled on V’s one ratty couch and V poured more vodka.

“May I ask you something?” Dodger asked after she finished the second shot.

“Shoot.”

“How are you and Jackie related?” Dodger seemed to be studying her features. “You don’t exactly…”

“Look alike?” V smirked. “Nah. Mama Welles took me in when I was lil. Jackie was seven. My mom, my bio mom, she was a Gypsy. Mama’s not exactly sure what happened, but my mom got into trouble, gave birth to me, then left me on Padre’s doorstep, figuring a godly man wouldn’t turn a baby away. He asked Mama Welles if she would take me, and she said yes.”

“That was amazing of her.”

“She is amazing,” V smiled. “Nobody in Heywood messes with Mama. Coz if they do, they’re gonna be dead in a gutter the next day with the whole wrath of Heywood behind them.”

“Have you and Jackie always been close?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend. Couldn’t ask for a better bro.”

Dodger glanced off to the closed bathroom door. “He’s an easy guy to like. It’s thanks to him I found me feet here.”

“They just don’t make ‘em like they make Jackie,” V said fondly. “Can I ask you something?”

Dodger shifted and held her glass out. “Guess it’s only fair.”

“Why are you in Night City? If I was a nomad, I’d never give that up.”

Dodger smiled sadly. “You definitely have some Gypsy blood in you.” She sighed. “My clan was called the Bakkers. You ever heard of Snake Nation?”

V’s face scrunched up in thought. “I might have. Don’t really know much about the clans, sorry. Only that the Aldecaldos have been operating in the surrounding area for the past few years.”

“Well, Snake Nation is one of the largest and most powerful clans. The Bakkers, my old family, decided to join them.”

“And that’s… bad?”

V sensed the deep sadness inside of Dodger and felt guilty for prying.

“It’s not just about joining forces. The Bakkers essentially ceased to exist the day they decided to wear Snake Nation colours and follow Snake Nation rules.”

“And you didn’t want that.”

Dodger twisted the glass around in her hands.

“Why did they join Snake Nation though?”

Another heavy sigh dripping with sadness. “A lot of clans are dying out. Corpos are driving us to ruin. Either we join stronger clans, become privateers for corporations, or fade away to nothing. The days of the nomads are fading.”

“Damn.”

Dodger merely nodded.

“Here’s to a new clan then,” said V fiercely and poured Dodger another round. “What should we call ourselves?”

Dodger laughed. “I’ll have to think on it.”

“Gotta get us some sweet jackets!” V winked.

Jackie emerged, all the blood scrubbed from his skin, although his clothes were still grimy. “Gracias hermana! Ooh, is that for me?” He downed his vodka, smacked his laps, and announced: “Wish me luck, chicas. I must go see my girl!”

“Bye Jackie,” Dodger laughed.

“Go get them, hermano,” V gave him a playful punch.

When he left, V looked at Dodger, her head was already spinning. “You shouldn’t drive home tonight. You’re welcome to crash here.” Then she saw the hesitation on Dodger’s face and her cheeks burned red. “N-not that I mean anything by it! You can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. I just don’t want you out on the streets after some drinks – not that I doubt your driving…”

“Thanks V,” Dodger interrupted her. “I appreciate it. In that case, I’ll have another.”

V grinned. “I’m glad you came to Night City Dodger!”

“Know what,” Dodger smiled back. “Tonight, I am too.”


	9. The Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, just a tiny bit of plot setup. But because it's so short, I'm uploading another chapter after this.
> 
> Also, some smut ahead. I'm not good at writing smut, and it's not meant to be super erotic or romantic.

Marcus took to his new office and position like a fish to water. Over the past year he’d not only sorted out the Frankfurt debacle, he’d rooted out three moles and plugged a major security breach. Life was good and he was moving up.

With his new role, he also had more access to confidential company data. And recently, there have been whispers on the streams. They whispered that Yorinobu Arasaka, the prodigal son, was returning to the fold.

Very interesting. Why would the Emperor’s exiled son come crawling back? Surely he hadn’t run out of money. Or perhaps he’d grown up and finally accepted the mantle his father had intended for him. Regardless, it was causing waves at Arasaka. Marcus gathered that the faction leaders didn’t know what to make of it.

Out of habit and curiosity, Marcus did a little digging, and a name popped up. Mikoshi. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t find out more. What or wherever Miskoshi was, a lot of effort had been put in to wipe the data.

Marcus was standing on his apartment roof, contemplating these secrets, when he heard the glass door whoosh open. He turned around, and smirked. Abernathy sauntered toward him, a look of cool confidence on her face.

“Meredith,” he raised his merlot to her. She grabbed the glass, sipped, and put it aside.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Bad day?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. She interrupted him by kissing him hard on the mouth.

“I said, take of your clothes.” She hissed and bit his bottom lip.

“Fuck, alright!”

Marcus grinned as she took a step back, her eyes hungry and feral like a panther’s. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He then took two quick steps toward her, kissed her roughly, and pulled off her blazer. His fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She let out an involuntary moan and his libido woke up. Her hands rover across his toned, hairless torso.

“Pants,” she growled and tugged at his belt.

“Yes ma’am.”

Marcus pulled down his pants and gasped as her hand reached between his legs, over his briefs.

“Good boy,” she purred.

Marcus scooped her into his arms and her legs wrapped around him. Her gluteal muscles were taut beneath his hands. Abernathy was probably twenty years his senior, but had the body of a twenty-five-year-old. He licked the skin between her breasts and she sighed. He laid her down on his bed and trailed kisses down her flat stomach. When he reached her skirt, he pulled it down and kissed over her underwear.

“Fuck me,” she gasped.

Marcus tore away the underwear and Abernathy spread her legs for him. He kicked off his briefs and entered her. His hips bucked against her and her nails dug into his back, her breath coming hard and quick.

“Fuck me!” she cried hoarsely and bit his shoulder.

So Marcus fucked her.

After, he lit her cigarette and watched her smoke while he stroked her perfectly sculpted pink nipples. Abernathy wasn’t much for pillow talk. He was just a pretty distraction to relieve stress.

“Bad day?” Marcus murmured and kissed her shoulder.

“Hmm,” she pulled at the cigarette and exhaled a blue cloud.

“Is it the Yorinobu thing?” he asked.

She peeked at him through lidded eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“I’m resourceful.”

“Hmm,” she half-smiled and laid back.

“Have you heard about Mikoshi?” he asked casually.

Abernathy went very still.

Unease spiked in Marcus’s stomach. _You cocky idiot._

“Forget that name,” snapped Abernathy. “I don’t care where you heard or read it. Never speak of it again. Understood?”

Marcus breathed out quietly. “Yes.”

Abernathy swung her legs over side. He watched the etchings of her spine shift beneath her skin as she stood up. “I have to go.”

Abernathy gathered her clothes and left. Marcus stayed in bed, feeling dread for the unknown. And yet… he couldn’t help himself.

What, who, or where was Mikoshi?


	10. The Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally starting to happen for real now!
> 
> And don't worry, T-Bug will feature more.

V woke with a headache tearing her brain into pieces. She nearly vomited just trying to move. When she opened her eyes the world flickered with static. She fell onto the floor and groaned as more pain spiked through her head. This was no fucking hangover.

She crawled to the bathroom, past Dodger asleep on the bed, and flopped into the shower. It took a minute for her to raise her body up to reach for the faucet’s motion sensor. Cold water spat over her and she spluttered. She closed her eyes and leaned against the cool tiles as the water drenched through her clothes. The nausea eventually passed, but her vision split and jumped. There was something wrong with her neural implant. She tried to do a scan, but it failed on startup.

“ _Fuck._ ”

V stumbled out, dripping and leaving puddles as she made her way to her tiny closet. She pulled underwear, a t-shirt and pair of jeans at random, stripped down, and pulled the fresh clothes over her wet body.

“Woah, morning,” said Dodger from the bed just as V pulled the shirt over her head.

“Hey,” replied V, then grabbed the edge of a shelf as she swayed.

Dodger chuckled. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I dunno,” V shut her eyes tight. “My implant’s freakin out. Think I got a virus from the scav hideout.”

The smirk instantly disappeared from Dodger’s face. “Shit, you okay?”

“Feel like crap, but I’m okay. Need to get to Vik ASAP though.”

“I’ll take you.”

“You okay to drive?” V peeked through one eye.

Dodger grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drained it. “Am now. Come on.”

The world swayed and tilted as V tried to follow Dodger, sometimes it jumped to black and white, other times it turned to static.

V’s phone buzzed in the elevator, and with effort she brought it to her ear.

“Hola V! Hope you two didn’t have too much fun without me!” Jackie yelled in her ear, audio turned tinny from the virus’s interference. She could still hear the implication in his voice though.

“Nothing happened,” she looked at Dodger and rolled her eyes. “Just had a few drinks and talked. Listen, Dodger’s taking me to Vik. Think I got a virus from the gig.”

“Mierda,” Jackie sighed. “I’ll meet you there. I’m bringin Misty to work.”

“Preem. See ya.”

Dodger helped her into the car; V gave Vik’s address, then closed her eyes as the tyres began to spin. Vik’s clinic fortunately wasn’t far from her new apartment. Dodger stopped on the sidewalk and V leaned on her as she got out. Misty’s shop was closed, so they went to the alley around back and down the stairs to Vik’s surgery.

“Hey Doc!” V called as she stumbled in through the door.

Viktor swung around in his chair, away from the fight on his screen, and grinned. “V! It’s good to see you. And you’re… Dodger?”

Dodger nodded and hovered alongside V as she approached the ripperdoc.

“Listen, Vik, I hate to bother ya,” V winced, “my last gig, I think I got spiked.”

Viktor sighed, took her face in his hands, and examined her eyes. “You experience any migraines, nausea, hypersensitivity to light?”

“All of the above and more.”

“Alright, let’s fix you up kid,” he patted her cheek and gestured to his operating chair. “Other than that, how are things?”

V sat down in the chair. Dodger leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, her wary eyes taking in every inch of Viktor’s surgery.

“Can’t complain, gigs have been comin in steady. Keepin myself fed. Have my own place now!”

“Congrats!” Viktor wheeled his chair over. “Jack in so long while I get things ready.”

V plugged her neural link into the socket in the chair’s arm and watched Viktor tap away at computer. “Remember those Kiroshis we talked about?”

“Mhm,” he said, eyes still fixed on the monitor screen.

“How much would that put me back?”

“21k. You lookin to upgrade?”

V’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Oof. Nah, still too rich for my blood. One day though.”

Viktor laughed his deep, scratchy laugh. “Well you know where to find me when you have the scratch.”

V’s vision cleared and the headache faded, leaving only ghostly traces behind.

“There we go! All sorted.” Vik kicked off and rolled backward across the floor.

V blinked, tested a few of her programs, and grinned. “Thanks Vik! You’re the best! How much do I owe ya?”

“This one’s on me,” he smiled.

“I’ll buy you a coffee then.”

“Deal. Just none of that synth shit. At least 80% real coffee bean, alright?”

V laughed and hopped to her feet. “Sure thing.”

Dodger straightened up and raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

“Preem. Thanks Dodge.”

“No problem,” Dodger gave her a small smile. “I’m gonna head out. Say hi to Jackie for me.”

“Will do.”

V tested the backdoor to Misty’s shop, and found it unlocked. Jackie sat in one of the poofy armchairs, Misty on the arm and leaning against him.

“Your chakras are seriously blocked, babe, you should let me clear them for you,” Misty said dreamily to Jackie.

“Should I come back?” V grinned.

“Hey V!” Misty smiled. “Your aura is a bit tainted too. Want me to take a look at it?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Jackie told be about the job. Something like that can seriously mess with your balance.”

“Yeah, it was kinda heavy,” V shifted in place. She nodded at Jackie. “You get any sleep?”

“You kiddin me?” he shook his head. “Nah, we sat up watching old kung fu movies. You?”

“A lil. Dreamed some messed up shit.”

“Jobs like this… ah… they stay with you,” a shadow passed over Jackie’s face. His irises suddenly flashed yellow, “hold up, I’m gettin a call. Hola, Jackie here?”

V watched his expression change to astonishment, then to excitement as he sitened and got to his feet. “Ciertamente! Any time will suit us! Si… si… Gracias!”

Jackie looked at V with the biggest smile on his face, his eyes shining. “You’ll never guess who just fuckin called!”

“Who!?”

“Dexter De-fucking-shawn, that’s who! _The_ Dexter Deshawn!”

A thrill passed up V’s spine and her mouth fell open. Dexter Deshawn, Black Jesus of the Afterlife, one of Night City’s top fixers. Legend had it, he weighed five-hundred pounds and all his augmentations were gold-plated, as in actual gold, not paint. He’d disappeared off the radar for a while. Rumours were that he’d retired to a private island. Apparently he’d found retirement boring.

“How the fuck— How does he even know we exist!?”

“’Parently this runner I worked with a few times, T-Bug, put in a good word for us.”

“Huh,” said V. “Almost too good to be true. You sure it’s legit?”

“C’mon, V! Ain’t nobody can resist this,” Jackie pointed at himself. “’Sides, he wants to meet us in an hour. Outside Denny’s.”

“’Us’ as in…?”

“You, me, and Dodger.”

“He’s gatherin a whole crew.”

“Seems like it. And if the stories are true, Dex’s planning somethin big. We’re gonna be legends, V!”

An hour later, V, Jackie, and Dodger stood on the sidewalk outside Denny’s. V shifted from foot to foot and scanned every face that walked past.

Jackie patted her arm and murmured, “here he comes.”

A sleek limo rolled up alongside them. A massive man, all muscle and no neck, circled around and looked them up and down. His irises flashed yellow, and he opened the door. The three of them looked at each other, then V sidled in.

The limo smelled like weed inside. The smoke drifted from a pipe clutched between the golden chrome fingers of Dexter Deshawn. Ample in the flesh. His black hair hung down in long, thin braids, a thick bear decorated the lower half of his face, the sites of his implants gleamed gold at his temples, and he wore a white t-shirt under a sleeveless red leather jacket. Golden rings glittered from the thick fingers of his flesh hand. A pair of shades covered his eyes.

“You must be Miss V,” he smiled. His voice was deep and poured over her like warm honey.

“Dexter Deshawn, in the flesh,” remarked V in undisguised awe and shook his hand.

Dodger slid in next. She eyed Dexter warily.

“And you’re the ex-nomad girl, Miss Dodger. A pleasure.”

Dodger said nothing and remained on the edge of her seat.

Jackie entered last, his bulky frame significantly shrunk the space in addition to Dexter’s girth.

“Jackie, my man,” Dexter smiled a shiny-toothed grin and bumped fists with Jackie.

“Yo, how’s it goin Dex?”

“It’s goin, it’s goin.” Dexter motioned with his meat hand and the driver put the limo in motion. Dexter turned in his seat and looked at each of them in turn. “Now, before I give y’all my proposition, I got a question. Would you rather live a peaceful life as Mr or Mrs Nobody, ‘n die of old age, smellin like piss? Or would you rather die in a blaze o’ glory, smellin near like posies and never seein thirty-five?”

Their faces were reflected in his glasses.

V grinned. “You become a legend or die tryin. The Night City way of life.”

Dexter chuckled and released a long stream of smoke. “Damn straight. You got the right stuff girl.”

“Ain’t nowhere else like Nigh City,” Jackie agreed. “Got one heck of a tradition that needs holdin up.”

“A’ight,” Dexter shifted again and rested his flesh arm up against the arm rest. “Le’s get down t’ business. This job’s big, I ain’t gonna lie. This isn’t jus’ some klep job or gangbangin business. There’s some prototype tech I want you to get for me. A biochip.”

“Prototype tech, huh?” said Dodger. “Sounds like corp.”

“Mhm,” Dexter blew smoke rings. “Arasaka.”

They glanced at each other, the alarm apparent in each other’s eyes.

“That a problem?” asked Dexter shrewdly.

“No! No,” said Jackie quickly. “Fuckers need to be taken down a notch.”

Dexter chuckled. “Tha’s what I like to hear. I feel this is the start of a beautiful and fortuitous friendship. Now, before we c’n even think of goin for the chip, there’s two things we need. First: the Maelstrom boys fucked me over. I bought some stolen Militech hardware from ‘em, ‘cept Maelstrom recently underwent a change ‘o management an’ I still don’ have my Flathead. The Flathead’s crucial to the mission, so I need y’all to retrieve it. Second: I need y’all to speak with one Evelyn Parker. She’s a contact of my client with crucial information. I’ll arrange a meeting.

“Once the first phase is complete, we’ll move on to the actual break-in and how to steal the biochip. Any questions?”

“What exactly are we stealing?” asked Dodger, eyes narrowed.

Dexter grinned at her. “If my client’s right, the key to immortality.”

V’s heart skipped a beat. So the rumours were true. Saburo Arasaka _had_ been working on tech to extend human life!

“Who’s the client?” asked Jackie.

“Someone from inside Arasaka.”

“Can they be trusted?” asked Dodger.

Dexter chuckled again. “Can anybody be trusted?”

“So some ‘Saka goon is lookin to make money on the side,” said Jackie thoughtfully.

“Exactly. Oh, an’ jus’ a lil heads up,” added Dexter. “A corpo bitch by the name of Abernathy is sniffin around the Flathead too. Make of that what you will. That everythin?”

They looked at each other.

“Yeah, let’s get to work?” said V.

“Music to my ears,” sighed Dexter. “I’ll send you the deets for the meetup with Miss Parker. The Flathead though, that’s your baby.” He leaned forward and said to the driver, “drop ‘em off here.”

The limo slowed to a stop and the bodyguard opened the door. As they were about to leave, Dexter said:

“One more thing, kids,”

They paused and looked at the mild, smiling face of Dexter Deshawn.

“Quiet life, or blaze o‘ glory?”


	11. The Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed how the BD analysis works a little bit, mainly removing some of the video gamey aspects that 2077 obviously has (as it is a video game). And since my logic couldn't quite comprehend how they would be able to scan certain things in the BD environment the way they did, I changed a few tiny things. 
> 
> And Judy is finally here! I hope I can do her justice.

They decided to divide and conquer, with V heading to meet Evelyn Parker over at Lizzies. The bar and BD-dive hummed and thrummed with techno punk music heavy with synthesisers. Hot pink lights escorted her past the Mox bouncers, and gave way to the softer blues, turquoises, and purples of the bar. A doorway on the opposite side led to the BD booths were customers could literally get their minds fucked by the actor of their choice.

The bartender was a handsome young man with glowing violet irises, a floral patterned shirt open over his chiselled chest, his dark hair undercut and swept back.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked with a charming smile.

“She’ll take a glass of Centzon,” spoke a husky, female voice.

V turned and watched a woman approach her, every movement deliberate and sensual. The woman had a bob of bottle-blue hair, had beautiful, cat-like features, and wore a short dress that sparkled like diamonds, the neck cutting a v down to a few inches above her navel, revealing the very attractive curves of her breasts. Over the dress she wore a long, shiny coat with a thick, white, fur ruff.

“Centzon? That’s my favourite brand of tequila,” said V, raising an eyebrow.

The woman leaned against the bar counter in front of V, her cleavage at a distracting eye-level. Her smile promised mysteries and secrets. “I like to know everything about the people I work with. Evelyn Parker,” she held out an elegant hand.

“V,” V shook her hand.

The bartender handed each of them a tequila and V took a sip. “Mind if I ask why we’re meeting here? It doesn’t exactly, uh,” her eyes briefly passed up and down Evelyn’s attire, “look like your kind of place.”

Evelyn laughed, a soft and attractive tinkle. “You hear that Mateo?” she smirked at the bartender. “I think that’s supposed to be a compliment.”

Mateo scoffed, but kept his eyes fixed on V. Whoever this Evelyn was, the message was clear. She was under Mox protection.

“The lounge available?” Evelyn asked Mateo.

“Mhm. You have it for an hour.”

“Won’t be needing it that long.” Evelyn put her glass down and got up with sinuous grace. “Come,” her voice beckoned.

V suddenly felt nervous as she got up and followed her. She felt clumsy and stupid, like the first time she’d slept with a woman.

Evelyn took her through to the back, where a long, hot pink corridor stretched to either side. **FUCK TO DEATH** said the neon sign over the exit down to the left. Several doors lined the corridor, some of them with red lights spelling “Occupied”. Evelyn headed for one of the greenlit doors. V jumped as she was confronted by a naked, dancing woman as soon as she entered the room. She blinked, and realised it was just a holo. Real or not, she had a hard time keeping her eyes from drifting back to it and was filled with immense discomfort. Evelyn didn’t appear to even notice the holo dancer as she took a seat on one of the velvet cushions of the booth. She patted the seat beside her and V joined her.

Evelyn watched her in silence for a moment, studying her. V tried to keep her gaze, while the naked woman twisted in her periphery.

“Dexter Deshawn had a lot to say about you,” purred Evelyn. She pulled out a cigarette case, put one between her mulberry lips, and leaned over for V to light it, who obliged. “Said you were professional, discreet.” She sighed and a long trail of smoke drifted up to the ceiling. “And trustworthy.” Her eyes passed over V again in a way that made V feel like a little bird under a cat’s gaze. “He didn’t mention you were so young.”

“I’m good at what I do,” replied V evenly. “And I’m quick.”

The corner of Evelyn’s mouth tugged upward and V blushed.

“I don’t doubt that you’re talented, but you’re going to need more than that if you want to get out of this alive.”

V felt the slight sting of her words. She had to prove she was more than just a street kid with some running skills.

Evelyn reached out and touched V’s temple with the tips of her fingers, the gesture almost a caress. V kept her expression neutral. “Dexter didn’t offer to buy you new eyes?”

V’s face burned even hotter. “Didn’t exactly come up.”

“You _are_ planning on upgrading for this job though?” asked Evelyn.

V’s jaw tightened. She wanted to snap that it was none of Evelyn’s business, or that she was a preem runner without fancy Kiroshis and frontal cortex implants. She wasn’t going to admit that she could afford them.

“I can be your sponsor,” Evelyn tucked V’s hair behind her ear, her eyes following the motion.

“Listen, lady, I don’t…” V pulled away.

Evelyn’s thin eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… yes, I see how that came across wrong. I would consider it an investment toward all of our future success. No ulterior motives.”

V still watched her warily.

“I want you to understand,” said Evelyn, her tone now serious, “that we are risking our lives here. I can’t begin to explain how dangerous this is. We need every advantage we can get, and that includes giving my potential partners every edge they need to stay alive.”

“Okay…” said V slowly. “I’ll accept then. But that’s not why I’m here. What’s the information?”

Evelyn stared at her for several seconds. “Did Dexter tell you what we’re going after?”

V nodded. “A biochip. A prototype. The key to immortality.”

“They nicknamed it the ‘Relic’. ‘Secure your Soul’. Arasaka’s spent billions on personality transfer technology.”

“You think they succeeded?”

“Well, they definitely have _something_. And Yorinobu Arasaka’s snuck away with it and currently has it with him here in Night City, at Konpeki Plaza.”

“Hmm. Wonder if he’s planning on selling it, screwing over his old man. There’s a lotta people out there who’d kill for this kinda tech.”

Evelyn shrugged. “Who knows. Either way, the chip’s hidden somewhere in Yorinobu’s suite on the top floor.”

“The security has to be insane, Yorinobu probably has an army watching him and Black ICE on his Net. I don’t even know how I’m going to scout it out without tripping up.”

“Yorinobu doesn’t like having his father’s bodyguards around. He usually only has the one sentinel on duty.”

V narrowed her eyes. “How do you know all this?”

Evelyn smirked. “I can show you.”

“What?”

“Have you ever experienced a BD, V?” Evelyn smoothly got up.

“Only once,” V frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Taking you to meet a friend. She’s going to play you a BD of Yorinobu’s suite and you can find all the info you’ll hopefully need.”

“How the fuck did you get that?” exclaimed V as she followed Evelyn down the corridor.

“I recorded it,” said Evelyn over her shoulder. “BD rec implant.”

“And you were in Yorinobu’s suite because…?”

“Stricly business.”

“Right.”

They passed beneath the **FUCK TO DEATH** , down another corridor, through a door that said “Employees only” which led to a dressing room where half-naked dolls were getting dressed and doing their makeup. Evelyn took V through the guts of the building, past pipes and thick wires that kept it running, down a narrow stairway, through the server room, and into a studio with a high-tech editing setup.

V stared in open wonder at the computers, sensory sig amps, acoustic and emotive wave monitors, when her stomach flipped and her heart skipped a few beats as she noticed the other person in the room.

“Hey Ev,” smiled the young woman in front of the wall of monitors, and looked at V with open, friendly curiosity. “This her?”

The woman had to be around V’s age, she still had the softness of youth around her face. She was built small, her skin the colour of café au lait, at least the parts that weren’t covered in artful tattoos; there were a lot of roses, on her arms and in her neck, a large number thirteen was etched onto her left deltoid, and fish swam around the right. Her head was shaved on the left side, and her hair swooped just past her jaw on the right, dark-brown at the roots, going into emerald green, which faded to bubblegum-pink. She wore denim overalls over a white sleeveless t-shirt, tied into a crop top.

“Yup.” Evelyn rested her hand on the back of the woman’s chair. “V, this is Judy, the best BD-editor in Night City.”

“Shut up,” Judy grinned and swept her multicoloured hair out of her face. “Gonna make me barf.”

V was overcome with a sudden and irrational need to impress Judy, who was instantly the most beautiful and interesting girl she’d ever seen.

“This your setup?” asked V, nodding at the tech.

Judy looked around her with a proud smile. “Yup. Built it myself. Only factory bits are the casings.”

“It’s pretty preem,” V’s eyes shone. “Your expression translator, that Fuyutsuki? I thought they fucked up the matrices on that series.”

“They did, but swappin out the matrices was easy. And Fuyutsuki’s the only model that supports additional scanware.”

“You done with the file?” Evelyn interrupted.

Judy turned back to her monitors. “Pretty much. It’s still raw, but it’ll do what you want it to.” She smirked at V, eyes dancing. “You ever been in a raw BD?”

V chuckled nervously. “Nope. Should I be nervous?”

“Nah, don’t worry, you’re in safe hands. You should see the Jig-Jig Street porn that comes in sometimes,” Judy shook her head. “It’ll be like walkin around in a virtu environ. No fencin in like the market BD’s. It’s how we search for underlyin emotions, impulses, anything to pad and craft the experience.” She swung her feet from her desk and moved to a different computer. “Let’s calibrate it. Need to tune it to you.”

“So V can just drop inside? Take a look around?” asked Evelyn, staring at the screens in front of her without comprehension.

“Yup. Siddown and we’ll get you goin,” Judy gestured at a reclined chair hooked up at the back centre of the room.

V complied and settled into the chair. She held her breath as Judy came over and leaned in to fix the equipment to her head. It was basic headgear that fit snuggly around her head, with two arms reaching out to hug her temples, just visible at the edges of her vision. Judy returned to her computer, and Evelyn sat down in another chair, eyes fixed on V.

“Creating your sensory profile now. Don’t want you barfin over my floor.”

V laughed nervously. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that.”

“Okay, try to sit still,” Judy typed at her keyboard. “Now look at me.”

V blushed but did as she asked.

“You’re gonna feel some tinglin.”

Judy clicked, and V’s vision briefly blurred, turned to static, and then Judy popped back into view.

“Now just need to sync your optics. Look to where the light is shining,”

V could just make out the blue light on her left periphery and her eyes flickered left.

“Good. Again.”

She repeated it, but for the right. They did it a few times until Judy was satisfied.

“Hang on a lil longer,” said Judy reassuringly. “I promise, you’ll be blown away by BD analysis. Just need to get the pain receptor limiters in.”

“I’m patient,” V smiled.

Judy flashed her a grin and tapped a few more commands into the computer.

“There we go! All set. And don’t worry, I’ll be in your head, talking you through the editing. This is basically a beginner’s class.”

“Okay. Let’s do it,” V instinctively clutched the armrests.

“Diving in 3…”

V’s vision blurred.

“…2…”

Then went white.

“…1.”

_She was in an elevator, adjusting her silver dress. Jewellery jingled around her wrists. The elevator door opened and her smile froze, her heart stopped as a massive creature, more machine than man, clanged toward her. Little red eyes scanned her, undressed her, and she felt sick._

_“Aren’t you a fuckable slice of meat?” a harsh voice grated from the creature’s mouth._

_She watched the elevator’s doors shut behind him, and only then allowed herself to relax. She took a moment to compose herself. Couldn’t show weakness. Couldn’t show fear._

“V? It’s Judy. It’s okay. You’re feeling what Ev was feeling.”

The part of V’s brain that was still her, shuddered. She’d felt Evelyn’s fear at the sight of the borg, could taste it…

_She shrugged off her fear, fixed her smile, and walked into the lounge, hips swaying._

_“I said no!” Yorinobu snapped. He sat with his back to her, dressed in formal, corporate wear. His silk shirt was designed to look like shimmering fish-scales. He heard her approach and turned; his eyes briefly flickered back to their usual dark-brown. “Make yourself comfortable. I just need a minute.”_

_He returned to his call, and switched to Japanese._

“Think I can listen in on that?” asked V.

“Yup. Switching you to editing mode.”

V felt a disorienting out-of-body experience as her consciousness switched from Evelyn’s point-of-view and floated invisibly behind her.

“Switching to audio layer,” Judy’s voice said in her head.

V’s vision became fuzzy, whilst audio signatures became clear, golden lines in wave patterns. It was almost like she was seeing sound.

“Focussing in on the conversation… there. Let’s check it.”

_“The program is still in the trial phase! It is unsafe. We cannot take it to market as it is,” said the voice on the other side of Yorinobu’s call, translated live by Judy’s clever software._

_“It cannot wait!” snapped Yorinobu in Japanese._

_“Please, speak with your father—”_

_“My father is an old fool without imagination who can’t see that the world is changing. He just wants to stay in his stupid dream, and keep everyone trapped in there with him. I’ve heard enough about him. You are speaking to me now!”_

V was vaguely aware of Evelyn’s footstep as she strode around the suite, her heels clacking sharp peaks around the edges of the conversations.

_“I don’t have to listen to this!”_

_“Then listen to this: Saburo is an addled despot living in a delusional version of reality. His time has passed, and he needs to realise it.”_

_The voice on the other side sighed. “If you won’t listen to reason, at least read the documentation. The Relic must be kept in specific storage conditions or it will be damaged.”_

_“Yes, yes!”_

_Yorinobu abruptly ended the call._

V’s mind raced.

“Hey Judy, can you playback a snippet of the other guy’s voice for me?”

“Sure thing.”

V waited a few seconds, and the voice’s last words repeated. She copied the audio signature and voiceprint to analyse later.

“Need to find those documents,” she murmured.

“Go ahead, switching you back to visual. Like I said, it’s like a virtu environ, shaped by Ev’s implant. Even if she didn’t consciously pick something up, it would’ve.”

V’s vision flickered, and she felt like blinking, even if there was no physical light, as colours and shapes suddenly exploded straight into her visual cortex.

The closest description of what it was like to float around, bodiless, through the virtual space, was like swimming, but with even less resistance. V swooped around the suite, scanning everything. She took note of the security systems and copied their information, useful for figuring out how to crack it later in the safety of a virtual environment before tackling the real thing. She also noticed a tablet on the bedside table. Was it possible to access it in the virtual space? Surely not. Her scan confirmed her suspicion; it only provided her with the model and make. It might as well have been a plastic toy.

Think V, think.

It was a biochip, that much she knew. So, if it wasn’t in a biological environment, like it was designed to be, how would they keep it stable? How would they preserve it?

They would put it on ice. Liquid nitrogen to be exact.

“Judy, does this have an infrared function or something? For temp signatures?”

“Gimme a challenge, would ya?” Judy grinned in her head.

V’s vision distorted again, and the scene became an alien mess of colours. Yorinobu and Evelyn were red blobs, fringed with oranges and yellows, their clothes greens and blues. All the furniture was also in shades of blue. Some of the tech shifted between yellow and orange. V slowly floated around and turned 360 degrees. She spotted a deeper blue blob in the wall, but it turned out to be the air conditioning. The temperatures were still too high for a biochip, and the fluctuations unsafe. She continued her search. She eliminated Yorinobu’s ice makers and freezer.

In the rear, left corner of the suite, V found a black patch.

“I think I found it. I know where he hides the chip! Switch me back to visual?”

Judy complied. V stared at black, seamless tiles. There was no way she would’ve known there was a secret compartment hidden underneath. They just needed to figure out how to open it. She worried that Yorinobu had unique software in his implants that interfaced with the compartment. If she could get Kiroshis and the right software, she might be able to see how the electrical wiring works in the physical location… but it was still incredibly risky. No way it didn’t have its own alarm system. She hated to admit it, but this job might be beyond her skillset.

Perhaps that’s why Dexter wanted the Flathead so bad, perhaps it was their key to bypassing the security measures?

“Okay, I think I’m good.”

The world went black, then there were bright lights, and V squinted. Her vision cleared and she was looking at Judy, who was leaning over her, looking concerned.

“My head,” V winced as everything did loop de loops.

“How you feelin?” asked Judy and helped take off the headgear.

“Like I’m comin off a bad trip,” V pressed her palms into her eyes. When she looked up, Judy was standing with her back to them, fidgeting with something out of sight.

“You’re actually gonna go through with this?” she asked quietly, the mirth from before completely gone.

Evelyn got up and walked to her, but stopped a metre away. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Everything will work out this time. I promise. Just like we planned.”

Judy raised her fist as if she wanted to punch something, but the fury abruptly left her and she slowly lowered it. “I’ll wipe your cache and data,” she said wearily, still not looking at Evelyn. “You were never here.” When she turned around, her expression was filled with deep sadness. “Know what I see when I look at you? Walking, talking corpses.” She finally looked at Evelyn. “Evelyn, please, no shortcuts. Don’t let the city win. Be careful.”

Evelyn scoffed. “Course I will be!”

Judy still looked sad as she turned away.

V slid out of the chair and glanced at Evelyn, who nodded.

“Um, thanks… Judy,” V said, and left the two women to talk.

On the way out, she sent Jackie and Dodger the same message:

_Got some gud intel. Gonna do a lil more digging. How’s things on ur end?_

Neither of them responded, so she assumed they were still busy, and headed home.


	12. The Pickup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! A bit under the weather, but back.
> 
> There are minor changes to the events from the game. I might come back to rewrite this with more action; I just wanted to try a scenario that didn't happen in the game. 
> 
> I think I'm going to try to upload two chapters a week, starting next week. Hope you enjoy!

Jackie had arranged to meet Dodger outside the abandoned All Foods factory. She was surprised when he'd declined to ride with her. Upon arrival, she saw why. Jack was across the street from All Foods, astride a bike that made Dodger’s heart skip a beat.

“Is that an ARCH Nazaré!?” exclaimed Dodger. “Where the hell did you klep her?”

Jackie raised his eyebrows at her. “Hola to you too! And I am offended,” he pressed his chrome hand to his chest, “I bought it!”

“With what money?”

“I know a guy,” Jackie shrugged. “Okay, _he_ might’ve klepped it. But isn’t she a beaut?”

Dodger settled on her haunches and admired the sleek lines of the bike, the preem black and red paint job.

“I’d swap out that tail pipe if I were you,” she remarked.

“Really?” he twisted around. “It’s got a mean growl the chicas jus’ love.”

“Yeah, and so will every gonk, borg, and gangoon in the area. They’ll know Jackie Welles is comin from miles away.”

“Oh,” his expression fell a little.

Dodger straightened up and circled the ARCH. “I’d tinker with the fuel injection too. Upload a new map. Slap on some thermal tape ‘til you can afford to mod the exhaust.”

“Luckily I know jus the chica who c’n help a choom out for free, right?”

Dodger snorted. “Let’s get the Flathead and I’ll think about it.”

Jackie dismounted the bike. “Into the borgbeasts’ den then?”

Dodger nodded and followed him toward the factory.

“I hate these borg fuckers,” muttered Jackie.

“Aren’t they just another gang?”

Jackie shook his head. “Take the Valentinos. They follow God and the Santa Madre. Honor and family means something to ‘em. The Sixth Street Soldiers are fightin for the ‘true America, pretendin to be patriots, whatever the fuck that means. You know what they want, and what pisses ‘em off. With Maelstrom, you jus never fuckin know what you’re gonna get. They’re so dorphed out on chrome, it messes with their brains, walkin the line of CP.”

Dodger’s body tensed. “This is going to be fun then.”

Jackie grimaced. “Let’s go knock on the door.”

Jackie led them to a closed gate. There was an intercom on the wall; a skull with four, mechanical spider legs was spray-painted over the decades of graffiti already decorating the wall. Jackie went to stand in front of the intercom’s sensor, the red light turned green, and they waited. A few seconds later a voice grated over the speaker, sounding as if they were talking through a rusted can: “Don’ know you.”

“Jus open the fuckin door,” grunted Jackie. “We’re here to see Royce.”

“Oh yeah? You got a fuckin appointment?”

Dodger sighed, then pushed past Jackie and snapped, “Dexter Deshawn sent us.”

There was a pause. “Main room. Come on in.”

The gate rolled open with a clatter, revealing an unlit loading bay. Two security turrets’ orange LED’s winked at them at the opposite end. The shelves were covered in rust and dust, the mangled remains of tools littered the floor along with boxes, miscellaneous scrap, and empty bottles.

“Militech,” murmured Dodger as they passed the turrets.

“Psycho borgs chromed outta their eyeballs on military hardware. Gonna be fun.”

A corridor appeared behind the turrets to the left, a faint blue-white glow at the end. More boxes and crap. Wires and pipes were exposed in the walls, like a dead creature with its guts spilling out. Dodger could smell the distinctive smells of burned wiring, oil, and rusting metal – like the stench of old blood. The corridor turned to the right, and then to the left again. Here, the emergency lights were still burning in the floor, giving an eerie red glow to their passage.

The corridor opened up onto a large production floor, the machinery silent in the dark. A white light suddenly flashed on and pierced their eyeballs. Dodger winced and raised a hand to cover the glare. Jackie scoffed. “Fuckers are tryin to scare us.”

A silhouette with a cluster of glowing red eyes watched from the catwalk above. “Get in the elevator, fuckin sheep!” it shouted, their vocal chords were destroyed by cybernetic augmentation, rendering the voice to a hoarse, inhuman sound.

They crossed the production floor to where a pair of doors just slid open. Jackie looked at Dodger, then stepped inside. She followed suit, feeling a lot better to have his huge frame at her side.

“Jus remember to keep chill,” Dodger murmured.

“When I’m I ever not not chill?” he smirked.

Gravity seemed to shift as the elevator ascended for a few seconds, then the doors slid open. A skinny borg waited for them, half of their face taken up by cluster of red spider-eyes. Both their arms were chrome, tubes twisted around the metal limbs and into a pack on its back – a pneumatic system. Wires sprout like hair from the crown of their head and were swept back. Whatever other augmentations they sported, was hidden behind ratty combat armour. They clutched a pistol in their right hand, a Unity by the looks of it. Dodger felt a chill as she beheld the figure, who to her, hardly seemed human.

“Whaddaya want?” snapped the borg in their machine voice.

Dodger frowned. They couldn’t already have forgotten? “Here to see Royce?”

“Mr Royce is busy. You’re dealin with me.”

Dodger’s hands curled into fists. “You got a bot, a Flathead, model MT0D12.”

“And?” their head cocked to the side in an unsettling way.

“Dexter Deshawn paid for it and wants his bot. We’re here to pick it up. He had a deal with Brick, but we heard Royce is now in charge. Need to talk to him.”

“Nah, you talk to me,” they grinned. “Name’s Dum Dum.”

Dodger resisted the urge to look at Jackie.

“In,” Dum Dum waved the pistol around. “The couch. Plant it.”

Dum Dum watched them closely with their creepy spider-eyes as they followed. A Maelstrom gangoon was lounging on one of the stained, ratty couches, while another was hooked up to a bank of monitors in the back. A crate acted as a table. There was a vending machine with cigarettes against the left wall, and a closed garage door at the opposite end of the room. Dum Dum chased the Maelstromer off the couch, and Dodger gingerly sat down on the edge. Jack came to stand beside her, arms cross.

“Wasn’t an suggestion, fuckin ass on fuckin couch!” Dum Dum waved the pistol at Jackie.

Dodger tensed as she felt Jackie’s anger, but he slowly lowered himself onto the couch. Dum Dum sat down on the crate opposite them and grinned at them. They pulled an inhaler out of their pocket and took a hit, breathing deeply. “Shiiiiit.” They then held the inhaler out to Dodger, “lighten up. Take a hit.”

“No thanks,” said Dodger shortly. She had no desire to pollute her neurons with fuck knows what, especially after it had been in Dum Dum’s mouth.

Dum Dum’s face change to fury. “Fine! Fuckin prude.” They took another hit and shook themselves like a dog with fleas. “Now let’s talk. You want the bot?”

“Dex already paid. The bot’s his. We’re the pickup,” said Jackie.

Dum Dum’s head twitched to face him. “That fuckin so?”

“That _is_ fuckin so,” responded Jackie. “Where’s the bot?”

Dum Dum stared at him for a few seconds, then waved at one of the other gangoons. The borg grumbled and shuffled out of the room, soon returning with a big case with the Militech “M” emblazoned on it.

“How we know that Militech ain’t gonna swarm all over us like flies on shit as soon as we leave?” asked Jackie.

“We removed the serial number and lifted access locks using our soft. Think we’re fuckin stupid?”

Jackie’s expression hardened.

“Show us,” Dodger nodded at the case.

Dum Dum regarded her, then turned to the case. They flipped the lid, and a black box with red eyes, four multi-jointed legs, and two arms with clever, metal fingers sat inside.

“Fuckin thing is tricked out,” said Dum Dum, regarding the Flathead like it was a beloved pet. “Dynamic, thermos-optic camo armour. Fully integrated link with Raven soft. Pimped out prototype actuators made of titanium-vanadium-Kevlar composite.”

The garage door began to slide open as Dum Dum gave their sales pitch. Dodger clocked it, keeping a wary eye on both the Flathead and the new development.

“Spider c’n crawl up the walls and ceilings. Don’t link up if you jus ate, you’ll fuckin puke.”

A massive figure came to stand in the garage door and observed. Red lights blinked from the centre of his bearded face. The dome of his head gleamed, with metals seams running along it. He was clad all in leather, muscles – or tech – bulged underneath.

“So watcha think?” Dum Dum grinned and patted the Flathead.

“It’ll do,” said Jackie.

Dum Dum barked a laugh. “Fuckin picky are ya? Let’s see your cred.”

“Deshawn already paid,” Dodger reminded.

There was a thundering crash, and the hulk in the garage door stormed over. He pulled out a shot gun and waved it in his large hand like it was a pistol. “Deshawn already paid?” Royce roared. “That fat fuck paid Brick, and I don’t fuckin see any Brick around, do you!?” He shoved the barrel right in Dodger’s face and she raised her hands. Her heart hammered as her thoughts raced.

“Fuck Brick then, we’ll cut a new deal,” responded Dodger sounding much calmer than she felt.

Royce pressed the barrel hard against her head and she tried not to flinch. Then he burst out laughing and pulled the gun away.

“Now that’s good fuckin business! Show me the eddies.”

Dodger slowly reached for a credit chip she didn’t have, trying to think of something, anything. But with a sinking gut she realised there was no reasoning with this psycho. Did Deshawn send them here to die?

Jackie moved like a snake and suddenly had Royce in a headlock, one of his gold-plated pistols pressed against the chrome of his head. The Maelstromers all drew their weapons and levelled it at them. Dodger instantly had her own pistol out.

“Way I see it, we already paid _Maelstrom_ for the fuckin bot,” said Jackie conversationally. “So if you got beef, go fuck up Brick. Now _we,_ we are gonna take our bot, and you’re gonna let us leave, nice ‘n easy. Comprende homes?”

Royce burst out laughing again. “You got some big fuckin balls on you fuckhead!”

“And mine are all natural, what about you, pendejo? Can you say the same?”

“Don’t push it!” snapped Royce. “I can have you killed right fuckin now!”

“But can you do it before I blow your fuckin brains out first?” Jackie grinned.

Dodger watched breathlessly as she kept her pistol aimed at the back of Royce’s head.

What remained of Royce’s face worked. Finally, he barked: “Fine. Take the fuckin bot. But if I see your faces again, I’ll strip your parts and make you fuckin watch!”

“Those are reasonable terms,” Jackie nodded. “Gracias, Royce. We accept. But if it’s okay with you, you’ll accompany us to the door, jus in case our friends here forget about the deal again.”

Dodger slowly reached for the case and had to heft it in both arms as the machine eyes of the borgs watched her. Jackie backed up with Royce, and Dodger walked backward with the case. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no gangoons snuck up on her.

“A-a-ah,” said Jackie as the Maelstromers tried to follow. “Stay where you are or bossman here will need a new brain implant.

“Do it!” barked Royce.

They retreated back into the elevator, and Dodger wouldn’t have been surprised if it didn’t move. But luckily it did. Either these fuckers were stupid, or they weren’t used to getting the jump on them.

It felt like ages before they finally reached the gate they’d entered through.

“Tell your boys to open the gate,” said Jackie to Royce. The red lights in his face turned blue for a few seconds, then reverted back.

“Gracias,” said Jackie. They exited through the gate, and he roughly pushed Royce back inside and aimed his pistol at him. “Nice doin business with ya!”

Royce bared his metal teeth at them and they slowly backed away. The gate rolled shut, but they didn’t let their guard down. As Jackie watched the factory, Dodger turned around. Her arms were beginning to strain from the weight of the crate.

When they reached the street, a strange car waited for them, a gorgeous, silver, Rayfield Caliburn. A man stepped out of the driver’s seat, while a large, suited solo waited in the passenger side. Dodger froze.

“Jackie,” she said quietly.

The man was a corpo. Everything about him, from his perfectly groomed dark hair, down to his shiny, leather shoes, was carefully crafted.

“Relax,” the man spread his hands, he had an easy smile on his sculpted face. “I’m just here to talk.”

“Militech?” Dodger raised an eyebrow.

The man snorted. “Arasaka.”

_Fuck._

His eyes flicked to the case. “ _That_ , however, is Militech.”

She nearly asked how he knew, but of course he knew. Deshawn had warned that Arasaka were sniffing around for the Flathead. And they're Ara-fuckin-saka. If the crazies were to be believed, Arasaka knew everything about everyone.

“Yeah, and?” Dodger raised her chin.

“Well, Arasaka is very interested in that tech. And, I can pay you handsomely for it. Far more than whatever fixer hired you, especially after you went through all the trouble of getting it from the Maelstrom. Saves me a lot of time and effort.”

“Forget it,” snapped Jackie. “We already have a deal.”

“How honourable!” the man smirked.

“Didn’t know a corpo-fucker would know the word.”

“I’m not here to make enemies!” the man folded his hands. They looked ridiculously clean and soft. “I merely wanted to strike a deal.”

“No deal. Now fuck off before I blow your pretty head off.”

The solo stirred, but the man waved him down. “Easy now! I didn’t come to fight. Two-million Eurodollars. I can transfer the funds here and now.”

Dodger nearly choked. Two-million!?

“Sorry pendejo,” Jackie gave him a shark’s grin.

The man sighed. “Very well. However, if you change your minds…” he flicked a chip over to them and it landed with a soft clatter at their feet. “Or, if you’re interested in any… freelancing for Arasaka.”

He flashed his perfect white teeth, and got back into the seat of his Rayfield. Dodger’s treacherous heart couldn’t help but admire the sleek vehicle, and her pulse jumped as its engine purred to life. The corpo and his solo cruised out of their sight.

“Mierda,” whispered Jackie.

“You think they know?”

“No se. Let’s call Dex and get the fuck off the streets.” He took the case from Dodger, and as an afterthought, she pocketed the corpo's chip.

They loaded the Flathead into the Archer, then tore off into different directions. Jackie would let her know what Deshawn’s response was, and what their next move would be. Dodger’s heart raced as she took the corners of Night City, slipped down narrow streets and screamed down the highway. If anyone was tailing her, she was making them work for it. But her fear didn’t diminish the high of flying through the streets in her car. Behind the wheel, she was untouchable.

Dodger stopped outside a random bar she didn’t even bother to check the name of, ordered a beer, and watched the door through the mirror. She sat like that for an hour while condensation gathered on the bottle and her beer turned warm. Satisfied, she left the beer untouched, returned to the Archer, and drove home.

Jackie called some hours later, and sounded excited. “Dex said to meet him tomorrow at the Afterlife. _The_ fuckin Afterlife!”

She could hear him grinning like a little kid. “What about Arasaka?” she asked.

“Dex knows. He’ll keep his feelers out. We just gotta keep our noses clean and not draw attention.”

“Does he think they know?”

“No. He thinks it’s jus about the tech.”

“I dunno man.”

“Hey, we’re gonna be legends! We gotta go big! Bein careful is just a slow way of dying.”

Dodger sighed. “What time we meetin Dex?”

“Ten. I already told V.”

“Preem. I’ll pick her up. She do okay?”

“Si! She has the info.”

“Good. See you tomorrow Jackie.”

“Ahí luego!”

Dodger passed a hand over her face. Success in Night City had a steep price. Could she afford to pay it?


	13. New update

So, uh, remember when I said I was a bit under the weather? Well I'm going for a Covid test tomorrow. Hopefully it'll be negative. Whatever this is, it's making me incredibly tired and fatigues. Just moving is really hard, so unfortunately no new chapters this week. I'll try to make it up to you once I've recovered! Hope you're all doing well and staying safe :)


	14. The Afterlife

An old morgue had been converted into one of Night City’s most exclusive nightclubs – the Afterlife. Here, you could rub shoulders with living legends, exchange jobs with the most exclusive fixers, and acquire preem contraband. Get your name on the wall in the Afterlife, and you’re practically immortal. V and Dodger made their way through a narrow, graffiti covered alley, with someone passed out on the ground, and violet strips of light showed the way to the innocuous stairway that lead down to Night City’s most exclusive night club.

V heard Jackie before they saw him.

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!” _Because I already have plans for tonight!_

They found him on the phone at the top of the stairway, and V smirked as she met his eyes. He shook his head and rolled his eyes as he said: “Mama! Te vas a enterar mañana!” _Mama! You’ll find out tomorrow!_ He paused and listened. “Si. Si. Te amo.” He sighed as he put his phone away.

“How’s Mama doing?” asked V and leaned against the wall.

“Ahh, you know,” Jackie shuffled, “she’s jus worried. Can’t help herself, can she? Checkin in on us to make sure we’re not rottin in some dumpster like the other Welles kids.”

With a tinge of sadness V nodded.

“It’s really startin to wear on me. The more I tell her things are okay, the more I feel like I’m straight up lyin. And it’s not fair, how come she’s not raggin on you all the time?”

“At least you have someone who’s worried about you,” muttered Dodger.

Jackie brightened up and grinned at them. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem! Afterlife, here we come, baby!”

They headed down the weirdly dim stairway and a set of sliding doors slid open at the bottom. The deep thrum of the music thumped faintly behind another pair of doors at the end of the corridor, calling them to join in. They passed beneath the neon green _Afterlife_ sign, past punks with mohawks, spikes imbedded in their skin, and glowing red augmented eyes. A massive, leather jacketed man with a chrome jaw and close cropped hair stopped them at the entrance.

“Who do you clowns think you are?” he asked in a deep baritone.

Jackie grinned and spread his hands. “Friends of Dexter DeShawn, holmes!”

“He’s expecting us,” added Dodger, her arms crossed.

The bouncer’s irises turned red, and he stared at someone who wasn’t there. “Yo, Dex. Got some kids here claimin to know you. Yeah. Yeah? All right then.” His eyes turned back to normal and he faced them again. “Alright. You can go in. He’ll send someone to get you.”

“Gracias holmes!” Jackie swaggered through as the door opened for them.

Heavy rock music blasted from the speakers and neon greens lined the long bar. Ancient police tape was strapped across the shelves behind the bar. Off to the right was a large alcove with pool tables. Cigarette and hooka smoke hung like a faint fog over the room. Patrons leaned on the bar, clustered around tables, and twisted on the dance floor. At the very back were rows of booths with comfortable wraparound seats with an air of exclusivity.

“This is it!” Jackie practically squealed. “The heart of Night City, can you feel it beating!?”

V had to remind herself to keep her mouth shut and not gawk like a little kid. “Can you imagine?” she called over the music. “Susan Forrest, Boa Boa, Morgan Blackhand, they sat at these stools! Drank at this bar!”

Dodger followed them in silence, tensed and wary like a cat.

They settled at the bar and waited to be served. Jackie nudged V when a woman with silver hair and a bright yellow jacket walked behind them. “Hey, see that lady? That’s _Rogue_.”

V almost did a double take.

“Who is she?” asked Dodger.

Jackie stared at her in shock. “Only the top fixer in Night City! She makes Dexter DeShawn look like a little backstreet pirate BD dealer. She was linin up jobs when Dex was still shittin his diapers. She only works with the best of the best. And she owns the place.”

Rogue was one of the few Night City legends still alive. If the stories were true, she was involved in the bombing of Arasaka back in 2023. That would make her at least seventy years old.

“Damn, she’s hot for an old lady,” said V.

“What can I get ya?” someone asked behind them. They turned around too find the bartender leaning on the counter and smirking. She was a Latina woman with dark curls tied back messily, a nice, full shape, and wore a short-sleeved jumpsuit.

 _Oh,_ thought V. She admired the bartender’s rubenesque figure and imagined what nice hugs she would give. Everything about her was full and soft and made V want to cuddle with her.

Jackie raised three fingers and said, “three tequila Old Fashioneds with a splash of cerveza and a chilli garnish.”

“A trio of Johnny Silverhands comin up!” she said and begin to prepare their drinks.

“Right on, chica!” grinned Jackie.

“Someone’s got good taste,” she remarked.

“He was that old rockstar, right?” asked Dodger.

V nodded. “Yeah. His band was called Samurai. They made great music. You just don’t get rock like that today.”

“And he blew up Arasaka Tower and died in the blast,” added Jackie. “That’s fuckin metal.”

“So he was a terrorist,” Dodger frowned.

“Well… yeah.”

“Age old tradition,” the bartender placed their drinks before them. “We name our drinks after legends.”

“Do I need to blow up a tower to have a drink named after me?” asked V. “Name’s V by the way. What’s yours?”

She chuckled. “Claire. All you gotta do is flatline. The more mind-blowingly spectacular, the better. Mid job’d be the best.”

“What a beaut of a tradition!” exclaimed Jackie and Dodger looked at him like he was crazy.

“To Night City!” V toasted.

“To the city that never sleeps!” cried Jackie.

The three clinked glasses and drank.

“So who else is ‘on the menu’?” asked Dodger.

“Pretty much everyone,” shrugged Claire.

“Even Morgan Blackhand?” asked Jackie.

“Nah. His spot’s still open ‘til he decides whether he’s alive or dead.”

“You really think he’s still kickin? It’s been years,” asked V over another sip. The spirits filled her gut with warmth.

“Why not? Look at Rogue,” Claire nodded to one of the booths at the back. “Peeps from their era… they don’t make em like that anymore.”

“Gotta live like a legend to die a legend. Better take down my recipe so long; name’s Jackie Welles,” he leaned across the counter and grinned at Claire. V scowled at him.

Claire smirked. “Sure.”

“Shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer…” Jackie listed. “Oh, and most importantly, a splash of love,” he winked.

Claire laughed loudly. “I’ll remember that!”

“Dude, you already have a girlfriend,” V hissed under her breath.

He just grinned and shrugged.

A solo walked up to them, his thick shades reflecting their faces back at them. “Meester DeShawn see you now.”

“Good luck,” Claire straightened up.

“Hold up,” V quickly stopped her. “Got a napkin and pen I can borrow?”

Claire raised an eyebrow, then put the requested items on the counter. V quickly scribbled on the napkin and slid it back to her. “Here’s my number. Just in case.”

Claire gave her an amused look. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

V flashed her one last smile before following the solo with Jackie and Dodger.

The solo took them through a door at the back, and the Afterlife’s former existence as a morgue was more prominent in the backstage parts of the club. The walls were tiled and wore the veneer of age; cold, white lights lit up the hallway. The solo stopped outside a door and took the universal stance of the bodyguard on duty: legs apart, hands folded over the crotch.

The inside of the room was much cushier than the clinical exterior; a white, leather, l-shaped sofa filled most of it, a screen covered one wall, and a plush carpet covered the floor. Dexter lounged directly opposite the door, one arm slung across the back of the sofa, while he clutched a cigar in his other hand. To his right sat a willowy woman with dark skin and a shaved head, wearing a pro netrunner’s black tracksuit.

“Well if it ain’t my new partners in crime,” said Dexter in his deep voice. He motioned for them to sit. A pair of shades covered his eyes, like before, but V could tell he was scanning them. “The Flathead?”

“In my car,” replied Dodger. “Didn’t want to carry it out in the open.”

“Good. Good,” Dexter nodded and exhaled a cloud of noxious smoke. He motioned to the bald woman with a gold ringed hand. “This is T-Bug. Best runner I know.”

V regarded her curiously; Jackie had worked with her a few times. She wondered if T-Bug would be willing to show her a thing or two.

“So, Miss V,” Dexter turned to her. “Evelyn Parker – she deliver?”

“Yup. She showed me a BD of Yorunobu’s suite she’d scrolled. I walked around a bit, checked out the security and found where he keeps the biochip.” What she didn’t mention was the unease she’d felt around Evelyn, the feeling that there was more plotting in her brain than she’d revealed.

“Mhm,” nodded Dexter. “Miss T-Bug here will deal with the security with the help of our lil Flathead.”

“Could’ve mentioned our target is the emperor’s son and heir apparent,” said Dodger.

“Man with a multi-million eddy name and no talent to back it up,” Dexter released another smoke stream.

“Sure. But we’ll need a rock solid plan or we’re fucked.”

“Relax, Miss Dodger. Miss T-Bug’s been busy as well.”

“Ops wise, it should be a stroll on the beach,” said T-Bug.

Dexter glanced at the screen and it came to life. Schematics of Konpeki Plaza appeared and shifted as he talked. “A Delamain’ll drop your asses off at the front door one week from now. You’ll stroll right in thanks to your new false IDs courtesy of Miss T-Bug.”

The name Hannah Conwell appeared next to a picture of a V, Ramón Victorino next to Jackie’s face, and Madeleine Teach next to a picture of Dodger. Their pictures showed groomed, fancier versions of themselves.

“Then Miss V will give T-Bug access to the hotel’s subnet.”

“Me and the Flathead,” added T-Bug.

“Then you slip into Yorinobu’s suite and klep the Relic. Quiet-like. No bodies, no evidence. Questions?”

“I’m a driver. What exactly is my role here since you’ve got a taxi service to do my job?” asked Dodger.

“In case things get… squiggly, we can’t rely on Delamain to get you outta there. You’ll need to come up with the exit strategy and get back to one of the safe houses.”

Dodger nodded and sat back in her seat.

“Security,” said V, “what’s the strat?”

“Before we even think about touching anything, we need to neutralise Konpeki’s runner and deal with the live-in sentinel,” said T-Bug. “The catch being I can’t get in from the outside. So once you gain access and let me and the Flathead in, I can deal with both. You should be able to access their subnet without raising alarms once you’ve booked in. We just need to be quick as soon as you let me in before their ICE picks up the intruder.”

V nodded.

“What about our covers? Who we playin as?” asked Jackie.

Dexter nodded at three datachips lying on the coffee table. “All your info’s on there. Including the locations of my safe houses. Make sure you know it off by heart. I want to be able to wake you in the middle of the night, with a gun to your head, and have you tell me Ramón’s mama’s name. You’ll be posin as arms dealers who have a meeting with Arasaka’s defence rep, Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

The trio looked at each other.

“I got one more question,” said Jackie. “What’s our cut gonna be?”

“Cut for fresh talent is always the same and non-negotiable. Thirty percent,” Dexter replied evenly.

“Bro, thirty?” Jackie groaned.

Dodger stiffened and T-Bug glared at him.

“Jack,” V hissed. “It’s like thirty percent of a coupla million!”

He didn’t seem mollified, but Dexter chuckled. “You got a smart head on your shoulders Miss V. I can promise you this though, do this job, and you’ll never want for a good payin job ever again.”

“One last thing,” T-Bug interjected. “You can’t take your weapons with you.”

“What!?” exclaimed Jackie.

“They’ll smell iron on you quicker than you can say ‘no bodies’. It’s all or nothing.”

“And go get yourselves somethin to look the part,” Dexter tossed them a credit chip. “Can’t have you walkin in lookin like gangoons. Oh, and Miss V, there’s a lil somethin extra to get you upgraded, baby.”

V’s heart leaped with excitement.

“So when the job’s done and everythin, when will we see our eddies?” asked Jackie.

V and Dodger sighed, and V buried her face in her hands.

“Dependin on our partner, Miss Parker, tops two weeks after you get me the Relic. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg said, life’s a banquet, so don’t go thirsty,” he heaved himself to his feet. “But don’t get drunk either.” With that, Dexter ambled out of the room.

“That’s my cue to delta too. Next we meet will be on comms.” T-Bug followed Dexter out.

They sat in silence for a while.

“Fuck, we’re really doing this!” V chuckled nervously.

Dodger picked up one of the datachips and twisted it in her fingers. “Ride or die.”

Jackie threw his arms around their shoulders. “Mi hermanas, we’re going to be legends!”


	15. The Heist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extended delay. The chapter was harder to write than I anticipated, and I had to work on a presentation for my thesis.  
> Regarding this chapter: I changed something toward the end for emotional impact.  
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

A large man, and two women, all in sleek, corporate attire climbed into a silver Delamain cab outside Biotech’s skyscraper. V had coloured her hair nearly black and slicked it back; she wore a dark pantsuit and heels she’d practised all week to walk in. Dodger was similarly suited in a soft blue-grey suit, her hair tied back in a severe ponytail. Jackie looked more conspicuous bursting out of his suit, but at least they’d convinced him to lose the man bun and comb his hair into a side swoop, his cyberware seams were hidden under a thick layer of makeup.

The screens embedded in the cab’s headrests turned on as soon as they were seated, and the computer generated image of a bald man with snow white skin and blue lips appeared. In a smooth voice he spoke: “Welcome on board this Delamain service. With Delamain you leave your problems at the door.”

“Better fuckin believe I will!” grinned Jackie.

“I see no reason why you should be using expletives,” said the Delamain measuredly.

Dodger eyed the empty driver’s seat with open distrust.

“Hey, how come that time I tried to hire you for my cousin’s bachelor party you refused?” asked Jackie and V snickered.

“Unfortunately, we do not take on such contracts.”

“Three months I’ve been savin up…”

V patted his arm. “Let it go bro.”

“Whatever. Hit it Del.”

“Before we begin our journey, I must verify the identities of all customers. Please proceed to connect your personal links.”

V pulled out her wirelink and plugged it into the screen. Her brand new Kiroshi’s displayed text on her visual interface: **Identification confirmed**. Jackie and Dodger did the same.

“Thank you. Excelsior package activated.”

“Excelsior!?” Jackie exclaimed. “Haha! This just keeps gettin better!”

V raised her eyebrows. “Damn, Dexter ain’t playin around!”

“Watch this!” Jackie cleared his throat, and said: “Delamain, initiate combat mode!”

“Please no,” muttered Dodger.

“My apologies, but you do not appear to be in any imminent danger.”

Dodger sighed in relief and Jackie’s face fell.

“Fine. But trust me,” he said to V, “he can mow down an army of ‘Saka ninjas when he needs to.”

“That even legal?” chuckled V.

“Of course it is," responded Delamain. "The Second Amendment says so. While on board, you are entirely within your rights to ‘bear’ and use me.”

“This is how you cruise into the major leagues!” Jackie grinned and settled back into the leather seat.

“Why are you so obsessed with the ‘major leagues’?” asked Dodger.

“Huh?” Jackie frowned at her.

“You bought that easily? A fancy suit and a robot car?” continued Dodger.

V tensed.

“I am an AI controlled cab service, not a ‘robot’,” Delamain piped up.

“Semantics!” Dodger snapped.

Jackie glared at Dodger, but his tone was still light when he said, “seems to me you’re the only one with the problem? V doesn’t have an issue with this stuff, right?”

V looked between Dodger and Jackie. In truth, she had been a little uneasy with how much money Dexter was throwing at them. In some ways it was like he owned them, but she’d pushed the thought down any time it reared its head. “It’s for the job,” she said, as she’d constantly reminded herself before. Once the job was done, and they had their money, they could work for whomever they wanted, or retire!

“I just wanna make sure you remember why we’re here, and focus on the job. Not get distracted by all the glamour of the high life,” Dodger continued.

“I’ve never been more focussed on anything in my entire fuckin life,” Jackie said slowly. “Lemme explain somethin. I didn’t grow up with freedom, ridin around the Badlands,” here Dodger’s expression hardened. “I spent my whole life crawlin in shit! I got the chance to get out, and I ain’t goin back!”

Dodger looked at V, challenging her. “What about you? You tryin to crawl outta the ‘shit’ too?”

V glanced at Jackie, then at her hands. “I want to matter.”

Dodger stared at her for several seconds, then looked out the window.

Ten minutes into the silent ride, they all got a call from T-Bug.

“Hey, how’s it going?” asked T-Bug.

“Smooth as fuckin sandpaper,” growled Jackie. V punched his meat arm.

“Just stay focussed,” snapped T-Bug, and Dodger shot Jackie a _look_. “I’m going to set up a direct encrypted line so I can guide you through the hotel. Try to keep communication between yourselves in meatspace, and be discreet. Paper and just plain talking is about the only things you can’t hack.”

A message popped up in V’s interface: _Receiving outside connection from anonymous source. Accept?_

She accepted, ignore the warning about the dangers of unsolicited access, and T-Bug was speaking directly in her head now.

“Set up a comm link with Jackie and Dodger so we’re all synced.”

V nodded and did as she asked.

“And?” asked T-Bug.

“Uh, say something more,” said Jackie.

“The greatest crimes issue from a desire for excess and not from necessity,” quoted T-Bug.

“What?” asked Jackie.

“Aristotle,” said V and T-Bug at the same time, and Jackie and Dodger looked at her in surprise.

“So we’re all synced?” asked T-Bug.

“Yeah, yeah, just stop with the Greek shit,” said Jackie.

“All right. Tech checks out. I’ll get in touch once you’ve arrived.”

Delamain’s calm voice announced at this time: “We will be arriving at your destination shortly.”

Five minutes later the cab pulled up in front of Konpeki Plaza’s entrance.

“Thank you for choosing Delamain service. I shall await here for your return.”

Jackie grinned nervously at V. “Shit’s finally happening.”

V nodded. “Yup.”

Dodger took a deep breath, and said, “all right Ramón, Hannah, let’s go.”

The Delamain’s doors opened by themselves and they stepped out. Jackie grabbed the massive, metal case that held the Flathead, and they headed for the hotel’s entrance.

Konpeki Plaza sat on Arasaka Waterfront, bamboo lined the view out to the ocean, and marble planters ran up alongside the sleek, black tiles that led up to the entrance. The name of the hotel was over the entrance in Japanese and English. The doorman bowed curtly as they approached and said: “Welcome to Konpeki Plaza.” The floor of the foyer was blood red, with lounges off to the right and left. Bonzai trees decorated the tables, and orange holo plants sprouted from ornate vases. Up ahead was the security checkpoint.

“Welcome to Konpeki Plaza,” greeted the security guard with a short bow. “Please come through single file.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Jackie and stepped into the arch of the detector. A blue light scanned him, then turned red.

“Excuse me sir,” said the security guard. “Care to explain why you are bringing military equipment into Konpeki Plaza?”

“We’re arms dealers,” said V. “We’re here to see Hajime Taki.” As she explained, Dodger handed the security guard the paperwork.

The guard’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the forms. An android with silver, human features, and wearing Konpeki plaza’s burgundy uniform, approached. “Is there a problem?” it asked with a male voice, the accent Japanese.

The security guard turned the papers toward the android. “They say their arms dealers but –”

“Ah!” the android turned to them. “You are here to see Taki-san?” he bowed low before them. “I apologise for the confusion. We are expecting you.”

Jackie snorted at the security guard and passed through. V approached the detector and waited to be scanned.

“My apologies ma’am, this will only take a second,” said the security guard. The scan interfered with V’s Kiroshi’s for a moment, but then her vision cleared and the guard stepped aside. She joined Jackie, and a few seconds later, so did Dodger.

Together, they made for the marble and darkwood reception desk attended by two androids designed to look like women. Behind the reception area was an indoor replica of a Japanese garden. Above their heads were red cubes of different sizes, presumably to serve as minimalistic art.

“Youkoso,” bowed the receptionist. “Greetings and welcome to Konpeki Plaza.” She straightened up.

“We’d like to check in,” said V. “Reservations are under ‘Conwell.’”

“Of course!” replied the receptionist brightly. “Just a moment please.” As she typed away, V looked around and scanned the cameras, the employees, anything of note with her Kiroshi’s, absorbing the information they provided. “Perfect. Rooms 4203, 4204, and 4205. Please validate your SID chips,” the receptionist nodded at the biometric scanner embedded in the desk’s surface. V placed her hand onto the scanner, the light went green, and the name “Hannah Conwell” appeared. “Ramón” and “Madeleine” validated their chips and the receptionist smiled. “Shall I inform Taki-san of your arrival?”

“That won’t be necessary,” V smiled back. “We would prefer to freshen up first. We had a long flight.”

“Very well. We wish you a pleasant stay!” she bowed low.

“Thank you!”

They walked past reception and passed the bar and restaurant on the way to the elevator. The colour palette of the restaurant was black and gold, while a broad strip of hot pink light lit up the bar counter. One of the walls at the back was made up of a large aquarium in which tropical fish drifted. The concierge, another android, called out: “Welcome to Konpeki Plaza! We don’t do reservations weekdays, but feel free to grab any table. Or a couple of stools by the bar?”

“When we settle in, wanna come down and check out the bar?” Jackie asked V and Dodger.

“Maybe later,” replied Dodger.

Jackie gave the bar another longing look, before setting off.

“Gonna bring Misty here one day,” said Jackie with a dreamy smile. “Think she’ll like it?”

V glanced at the abstract paintings on the walls, the gleaming black marble, the austerity of it all, and couldn’t imagine Misty in a place like this, a temple of materialism where Corpos came to play.

“Sure.”

They took the elevator up to the forty-second floor, which was decorated with more holo plants, cube sculptures, and abstract art. They checked in at their respective rooms for the sake of appearances, and finally gathered in Jackie’s. The rooms were identical, the far wall was all window, the floors were dark wood with a red carpet in the sitting area. Large smart screens played the news in each of their rooms.

“Pretty snazzy, huh?” asked Jackie from plush, white sofa, his arms spread across the back. “Too bad we ain’t stayin the night.”

“Yeah,” sighed V as she stared longingly at the luxurious king-sized bed. “I’ll connect to the local NET and let T-Bug in.

She kicked off the heels and padded barefoot to the access point on the wall, connected her wirelink, and easily bypassed the log in system.

“Okay T-Bug, you have access.”

“Preem. Get the Flathead ready.”

Jackie set the case on the ground and opened the lid. The robot raised itself on its spidery legs and scanned the room.

“Okay, I’m in,” came T-Bug’s voice. “I’ve got some ICE running to cover my tracks, but I need you to keep an eye out V.”

“Will do.”

For the next hour, V kept a wary eye on the NET for signs of Konpeki’s runners’ ICE and interference. Whenever things go dicey, she diverted them with some meddling of her own. Alongside that, she switched back and forth through the various camera systems in the hotel, tracking the Flathead and T-Bug’s progress as it made its way through the vents. Thanks to the Flathead’s cloaking capabilities, it went unnoticed by staff members and other guests. When it reached the central security hub, T-Bug had the Flathead connect with a local access point, right behind the security guards seated a few feet away. From there she could stealthily survey the local NET, run interference, and keep the sentinel inactive.

“Flathead’s in place. I’ll let you know when Yorinobu leaves.”

“Thanks T-Bug,” V responded, then turned to the others. “Sounds like we’re waitin.”

Jackie’s eyes lit up, but Dodger cut him off. “No bar. We need to keep our heads clear here.”

Jackie muttered under his breath.

V flopped onto the couch, “guess we’re stuck here for now,” and started flicking through the available channels on the screen.

“I’m going to take a walk, see what we have in the ways of exit strategies,” said Dodger. She left the room.

“Bitch,” Jackie grunted.

“I can still hear you, remember?” her voice sounded in their heads, followed by a distant chuckle from T-Bug.

V sighed and tried to focus on what was happening on the screen, but the shows held zero interest for her. The waiting was going to drive her insane. If only they could go _now._ Perhaps she should’ve gone with Dodger, just to have something to do.

Dusk was falling over Night City when V woke from a doze. Jackie stood by the window and stared out at Arasaka Waterfront.

“Why d’you think he gave it all up?” Jackie asked quietly.

“Who? Yorinobu?” V murmured sleepily.

“Yeah. Why’d he give up the good life? Just thinkin, is all. It’s like… You got everything, right? Eddies, education… Your pops can just snap his fingers and half the fuckin planet’s a nuclear wasteland. But instead, you’re like, ‘Nah, fuck it’, and you start a fuckin gang. Fuckin Steel Dragons. You ghost from your family, chip some RealSkinn, and play gang leader for a few years. For what!?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to be the emperor’s son,” V shrugged.

“It may be gilded, but it’s still a prison,” said Dodger.

“Please don’t start with your bullshit ideas about freedom,” Jackie rubbed his eyes. “I’m jus sayin, he had options.”

“You talkin about the Valentino’s?” asked V.

“That’s different!” he snapped. “Heywood ain’t no fuckin palace in Japan. I did what I had to with what I got. I didn’t have a choice.”

 _You nearly died,_ thought V, but kept quiet.

“Fuckin hijo de puta,” Jackie muttered darkly.

“Speakin of the devil,” T-Bug’s voice broke in. “He’s heading for the lobby. You’ve got your window.”

Everyone was immediately on their feet.

“You got this?” Dodger asked, her brow furrowed.

V grinned at her. “Yup.”

“Showtime,” Jackie smiled.

V slipped her heels on, and she strolled with Jackie to the elevator. T-Bug granted them access to the hundredth floor and they started their ascent. Jackie fidgeted and stared at the control panel, as if willing the numbers to move faster.

“Hey Jackie,” said V.

“Hm?”

“Why’d the rockerboy’s output kick him out?”

He smirked. “Why?”

“Because he wasn’t chippin in!”

T-Bug groaned in her ears and Dodger muttered, “I don’t get it.”

The elevator doors slid upon and they stepped into the suite V had visited in Evelyn’s BD.

“Must be nice to be the heir to the Arasaka empire,” commented Jackie as he strolled further into the sitting area. “Sure as shit’s better ‘n bein the son of Raul Welles.”

V glanced at him with a furrowed brow. _Focus. The Relic._ She headed for the back of the suite where she’d picked up the presumed location of their target, while Jackie wandered around. Sure enough, when V scanned the smooth floor with her Kiroshis, she picked up a hidden freezer compartment. She followed the electrical lines to a hidden switch by Yorinobu’s bed, activated it, and heard Jackie call: “Shit, somethin’s comin outta the floor!” When she returned, a large structure had risen from the floor, looking somewhat like a countertop. The compartment in the centre was locked, as was expected. V jacked in, overrid the lock and alarm, and the compartment slid open.

A small squadron of AV’s rose past the wall length windows. V’s stomach twisted and Jackie turned to see what she was looking at.

“Uh, we’ve got winged visitors incoming,” said Jackie.

“Staff’s abuzz,” came T-Bug’s voice. “Dunno who it is. Hurry up.”

“Should I ready the escape?” asked Dodger’s voice.

“Not yet,” said V and T-Bug simultaneously, then V continued. “But be on your guard.”

Jackie lifted a case out of the freezer and laid it on the counter. “‘Bioshard integrity 100%’. Guess it’s good.”

“Shit!” T-Bug yelled. “Yorinobu’s heading back to the suite!”

“Can you stall him?” cried V as they ran for the elevator.

“Not enough time! Fuck!”

“I though you said he left!” Jackie snapped.

“He _did_!”

“Fuck! What do we do!?” V looked around in panic.

“Uh,” V could hear the data racing in T-Bug’s brain, “try that pillar, behind you! It’s a maintenance shaft.”

“You fuckin’ kidding me!” yelled Jackie.

“Gogogogogo,” hissed V and ushered him toward it. She opened the panel behind the pillar and they squeezed into the tight spot and hid among the wires.

“This doesn’t solve our fuckin problem!” whispered Jackie hoarsely.

“I fucking know!” T-Bug snapped in their heads.

The elevator opened and Yorinobu Arasaka himself stepped out, soon followed by the giant borg V had seen in the BD.

“Is that Adam Smasher?” whispered Jackie.

“ _Shh_!”

Yorinobu spoke out loud: “Are they here yet?”

A female AI responded from the room: “They approach from the landing pad.”

“What’s going on?” asked Jackie.

“Nuh-uh, no fucking way…” muttered T-Bug.

“What!?” V breathed.

And then her heart stopped as an old man in formal attire entered the room from upstairs. It was Saburo Ara-fucking-saka. The Emperor. She barely paid the bodyguard with him any attention.

Saburo calmly approached Yorinobu, who was pouring himself a drink, as the bodyguards paced the room like restless cats.

“ _I thought I told you to stay out of my affairs!_ ” snapped Yorinobu in Japanese. V’s software automatically translated and overlaid subtitles on her visual interface.

V held her breath as Yorinobu’s bodyguard walked right past the maintenance shaft, and then seemed to glance right at them.

“ _Leave us_ ,” ordered Saburo.

The bodyguard turned around and smartly straightened up. “ _Arasaka-sama, I haven’t completed my sweep yet._ ” 

“ _This is my son. I will speak with him._ ”

“ _Of course. Shall I retrieve what we came for_?”

“ _I will handle it. You may go._ ”

The bodyguard bowed low, then left via the elevator, shortly followed by Adam Smasher.

Now they were alone with the Arasakas. V’s heart beat so fast she was worried it might explode.

“ _Did you think I would not notice it was taken from me_?” asked Saburo measuredly. His voice was deep and scratchy with age.

“ _Actually, I hardly ever think of you. I try my best not to_ ,” responded Yorinobu flippantly.

 _Dick_ , thought V. Not that she held any love for Saburo, but still…

“ _You think the world revolves around you!”_ continued Yorinobu. “ _Arrogant_!”

“ _Yorinobu_.”

“ _Why are you here!? To punish me? To put me in my place? Humiliate me!?”_

 _“‘The nail that protrudes from the wall gets hammered…’”_ quoted Saburo.

Yorinobu sighed and rolled his eyes. “ _Stop it with the old proverbs_! _Be original for once_!” He got to his feet and started to pace.

“ _And it’s ‘original’ to sell our greatest achievement to the Westerners? Our future to these barbarians?”_

Yorinobu laughed mirthlessly. “ _Our future?_ Our _achievement!? It’s only ever been about_ you!” He pointed at his father with so much force, it’s almost as if he wanted it to stab through Saburo’s chest.

Saburo bowed his head and looked morose. “ _I knew this day would come. I knew one day your impudence would cross the line._ ” He slowly approached Yorinobu. “ _There is much I forgave you for. Will forgive you for. But treason. No._ ” Yorinobu stood before him, exuding cockiness as he put his hands on his hips and glared at Saburo. “ _It is good that your mother is not here to see this. The heart should break but once._ ”

Yorinobu smirked, let out a puff of air. Then lunged at his father.

V jumped as Saburo slammed against their hiding place, Yorinobu’s hands clamped around his throat. Yorinobu’s expression was twisted into a mask of pure hatred as he bared his teeth and slammed his father’s head against the pillar.

“ _You never have to forgive me for anything ever again_!” he screamed.

Saburo tried to raise his hands, but his son smashed his skull against the pillar again and proceeded to strangle his father.

V could only stare in horror.

When Saburo’s body slumped to the floor, Yorinobu took a step back, took a moment to compose himself, then calmly ordered: “Put the hotel on lockdown.”

“May I ask why?” inquired the AI.

“Saburo Arasaka has been murdered.”

“Code Red initiated.”

_Fuck. Shit, shit, shit, FUCK!_

A message rang out through the entire hotel: “Attention. A Code Red has been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms and follow instructions given by staff.”

Saburo’s bodyguard stormed into the room. “ _What happened_!?”

“ _Someone poisoned my father_ ,” replied Yorinobu.

“ _Poisoned_!?” He glanced at the body on the floor. “ _Yorinobu-san, I doubt…_ ”

Yorinobu sauntered right up to him. “ _What is your job, Takemura_?”

“ _I don’t follow_?”

“ _Your_ job _is to protect the head of the Arasaka family_! _You’d best not fail me as well._ ”

The bodyguard, Takemura, bowed his head. “ _My apologies, Arasaka-sama. I shall not disappoint._ ”

Yorinobu marched for the elevator, and Takemura followed, looking like a kicked dog. He looked back once more before stepping inside.

“What the fuck!?” cried T-Bug.

“Yorinobu just offed Saburo Arasaka!” V whispered in a strained voice as panic raced through her body. “We’re so fucking fucked…”

“His own pops,” Jackie murmured.

“No time!” yelled T-Bug. “Window, now!”

They exited the maintenance shaft and V looked around until she saw a glass pane open by itself.

“Oh fuck,” came T-Bug’s voice. “Oh no no no no no! I’ve been made -!” her voice grew to a scream then abruptly cut off.

“T-Bug? T!?” yelled V.

“Ah fuck,” cried Jackie. “We lost T!”

“We gotta move!” V insisted and hurried through the window onto a broad ledge. “Fuckin major leagues!” When she turned the corner, the ledge narrowed significantly. “Oh fuck…”

“I’m right behind you!” Jackie called.

“Uh, Jack?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he almost sounded in tears when he caught up with her.

“I’ll go on ahead, just… just don’t look down,” said V and began to inch forward, her back pressed against the window.

“You can do this Jackie, you can do this… Oh fuck that’s high.”

V could see the access ladder on the far side, just seven more feet, six more, five…

An AV rose out of nowhere and flew to the landing pad over the suite.

“Shit, it’s Trauma!” yelled Jackie.

“They’re a little late!”

“Think they saw us?”

Jackie barely asked his question when a security drone swooped in. “All guests must return to their rooms. Konpeki Plaza is under a Code Red lockdown. All guests must return to their rooms. Konpeki Plaza is under a Code Red lockdown”

“We’re on our way?” tried V.

“Guests who do not comply will be detained.”

“Oh shit.”

“What do we do?” asked Jackie.

Just then a minigun popped out from beneath the drone and aimed at them.

“Jump!” yelled V and launched herself into space.

“Oh fuuuuuuuck!” shouted Jackie as he followed.

Her guts rolled up in her body, then plummeted sickeningly as gravity took control. She slammed into the glass slope of the roof below, likely bruised the entire right side of her body, and slid along it. _Ratatatatata_ the drone fired after them.

At the end of the slope they were launched into the air again, but V barely had time to register when she crashed through a roof, pain lanced through her ankles and legs, and thudded heavily to a metal floor. Consciousness briefly left her.

Seconds later, V clawed her way back and looked around groggily while her Kiroshis rebooted and disturbed her vision. They were in some sort of maintenance area. Jackie lay across from her, the case between then.

“ _Fuck_ …” moaned Jackie as he tried to raise himself. “ _¡Madres!_ The Relic!”

“Jackie, you’re bleeding!” V stared in horror at his midriff. Jackie followed her gaze where his white shirt was torn and blossomed red.

“Huh,” he said. “We’ll worry about that later! What do we do about the Relic? Uh… call Parker!”

“And what!? Tell her we’re all fucked?”

“The integrity’s droppin V!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” V pressed her grazed, dirty palms against her temples as she tried to think.

“23%!”

“Fuck, give it here!”

“What?”

“Open the fucking case, Jackie!” V nearly screamed.

Jackie did as she asked and she reached for the chip, then slotted it into her neural port.

“You don’t know what that’ll do to you!” cried Jackie.

“We’ll worry about that later! Dodge, you there?”

“Yeah,” came Dodger’s voice. “I’m stuck in my room. Where are you!?”

“Uh, gimme a sec,” V pulled up the schematics for the hotel and pinpointed their location. “We’re in some maintenance corridor on the seventieth floor.”

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll try to get to the garage and be ready for us to delta.”

“Roger. See ya soon.”

Jackie used the wall to pull himself to his feet and groaned.

“You holdin up there, Jack?” V asked with concern.

He gave her a weak grin. “Yeah… just a scratch. We gotta… get to the lobby… Only way… to the garage…”

V cursed as she wobbled to her own feet and was hit by a wave of pain. Amidst a lot of winces, groans and moans, they made for the door and emerged onto a public lounge area. The AI voice continued to drone instructions overhead, and underneath that, they could hear security moving about.

“Heads up,” V whispered. “They see us like this, we’re screwed.”

“How many?” whispered Jackie.

V’s switched to infrared vision and clearly saw the orange-red silhouettes of the security guards. “Two.”

“Let’s take ‘em out.”

They waited until the guards separated enough, then each snuck up behind a target. V administered a quick, electric shock via a subdermal implant to her target with enough amps to knock him out, but not kill him. Jackie knocked his guy out with a firm hit to the temple. They scavenged their weapons – Shigure automatic rifles – and sneakily continued forward.

V disabled cameras as far as they went, and they had a few close calls with security guard patrols. A firefight against an army of 'Saka guards was suicide. V had to override the Code Red Protocol keeping the elevator locked down, and they rode it to the lobby, guns aimed and ready in case someone was watching. When the doors slid open, mercifully no guards were waiting to execute them.

The elevator to the parking garage was separate and on the other side of the lobby. That meant crossing a wide open space crawling with security and heavily monitored by cameras.

 _Shit, shit,_ thought V as she assessed the room; she was hidden behind a potted plant, Jackie breathing heavily behind her. Time for a distraction and some glorious chaos.

The computers, smart screens, android receptionists, and holo-plants by the entrance all exploded in a chain reaction of sparks. Alarms went off and sprinkler systems rained down from the ceiling. Somehow, amidst all this, Jackie and V managed to haul ass to the elevator. The doors slid shut just as someone noticed them. V disabled all outside communication to the elevator, so that only they could control the doors and where it went.

When they reached the parking garage, a security guard had his weapon trained at them. “Put your hands in the air or I’ll shoot!” he yelled.

This was followed by the roar of an engine, then an armoured Chevillon Emperor slammed into him and he was knocked over. The doors flew open and Dodger’s voice yelled simultaneously in their heads and in the physical world: “Get in!”

They barely dove in and Dodger was already gunning it toward the exit. V and Jackie yanked their doors shut, then there was a horrible impact that made every bruise in V’s body scream as they tore through the garage doors.

“¡Madres!” cursed Jackie and he clutched at his midriff.

“Let me look!” V pried at his hands. “Fuck,” she whispered as she inspected the wound. He’d been shot. She helped Jackie out of his blazer, pulled off her own, and bandaged the wound as tightly as she could. “Keep pressure on it!”

“Everythin okay?” asked Dodger, not removing her eyes from the road she wove through traffic.

“Jackie’s been shot. And I think my ribs are bruised,” winced V.

Dodger nodded. “We’re headed for the No-Tell Motel. Just hang in there chooms.”

“You’re gonna be fine Jack, you’re gonna be fine,” murmured V as she clung to his arm. “Give it a few weeks to die down, and we’ll be rich!”

Jackie chuckled, then grimaced. “Oof that fuckin hurts…”.

Once Dodger was certain she’d shaken any possible pursuit, she parked them behind the No-Tell Motel. V helped Jackie out, and he leaned heavily on her as they made their way inside. Dodger said she was going to dump the stolen car, and drove off. This was the part of Night City where bloodied, torn up gonks barely warranted a second glance, so they made their way up to room 204 without trouble. V knocked on the door and waited. She knocked a second time and called, “it’s us.”

Dexter’s bodyguard opened the door, the wall of meat from their first meeting. Wordlessly he stepped aside for them to enter. They trouped in, and Jackie immediately sank onto the single couch. Dexter stood right by the TV and flipped through channels.

“WNS. N54. Even the fucking porn networks,” he said coolly. Then he turned and bellowed: “You’re blowin up everywhere!”

“That had nothing to do with us!” V snapped. Her nerves were frayed and shot after the whole ordeal.

“Watch. Your. Tone,” growled Dexter in a dangerous, low voice.

“Jackie got fuckin shot!”

“Well I’m fuckin sorry,” he retorted. “The Relic?”

V tapped her temple. “Right here.”

Dexter stared at her for several seconds, and she couldn’t tell if he was relieved or furious.

“Saburo Arasaka. What the fuck were you thinking!? YOU OFFED THE FUCKING EMPEROR!” Dexter turned his back to her and lit himself a cigar.

“Hey!” V circled around to face him. “We had _nothing_ to do with that! It would’ve happened with or without us there!”

“Yeah,” added Jackie. “Yorinobu offed his own fuckin dad while we were squeezed into a maintenance shaft like a pair of fuckin cockroaches!”

“Yeah?” Dexter raised an eyebrow. “That’s _your_ word against an Arasaka’s!” He started pacing and smoking.

“They don’t even know we were fucking there! So let’s just lay low for a while.”

After a long silence, Dexter said, “Aight. We gotta be tactical about this.” He settled onto the couch near Jackie. “Contact Parker. Get the eddies. Disappear.”

Dexter took another deep breath, exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, and the next moment V’s vision flashed black and red as something collided with the right side of her head and knocked her to the floor.

“What the fuck!?” Jackie cried, followed by a heavy thump.

V tried to raise herself, but something heavy pressed against the small of her back, so she craned her neck to look up. Jackie was coughing and groaning on the floor at Dexter’s feet.

“I’m sorry kids, it’s just business,” he said.

Before V could register his words, Dexter raised a gun and shot Jackie in the head.

“NO!” the scream ripped her throat. “JACKIE!” She scrambled and tried to get to him, but got another heavy knock to the head that made her bite through her tongue. She lay squirming while blood and tears streamed down her face. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU! I’M GONNA FUCKIN KILL YOU!”

Dexter calmly raised his pistol and aimed it at V’s head. The shot rang out and it went dark.


	16. Love, Death, and Reboots

_Rock music thumped through the building as he made his way from his dressing room._

_“You okay?” slurred a groupie slumped against the wall._

_“Never better,” he growled._

_As he approached backstage, a man with a poof of hair marched toward him and demanded, “where the fuck have you been?”_

_As quick as a flash, he had the man pressed against the wall with his silver hand, his Malorian Arms 3516 power pistol burrowing into his temple._

_“What the fuck man!?” his manager squeaked._

_After a long moment of almost blasting the gonk’s brains out, he let him go and continued toward the stage._

_“‘Course your high,” snorted one of the stagehands._

_Kerry was doing an amazing job of performing Chippin In on stage. The kid shouldn’t waste his time and talent here. He paused a moment to listen as Kerry’s golden voice hit the notes perfectly, the vocal distortion soothing instead of grating._

_He stepped out onto the stage and a moment of silence fell. Kerry respectfully stepped away from the mic and everyone watched him with baited breath. No one said anything about the pistol in his hand. Of course not. This is exactly the sort of stunt Johnny Silverhand would pull._

_Johnny gripped the mic with his namesake – his chrome left hand – and spoke: “Tonight, I’m here to say goodbye to all of you.”_

_With that, Kerry struck out a note on his axe that resonated with Johnny’s soul and started the opening riff of Love Like Fire._

_* * *_

_V was lost in a dark world of broken code. She wandered aimlessly._

_A voice floated up from the darkness, low and husky. “And who are you?”_

_* * *_

**SYSTEM REBOOT**

**………………**

**………………**

**PGSR0 : 0X30 ADDR:0X4E**

**PGSR0 : 0X4E ADDR:0X4F**

**PGSR0 : 0X24 ADDR:0X50**

**PGSR0 : 0X28 ADDR:0X56**

**PGSR0 : 0X00 ADDR:0X57**

**………………**

**………………**

**………………**

**CYBERWARE DIAGNOSTICS**

**………………**

**SECURITY SYSTEMS**

**………………**

**NETWORK FRAMEWORK**

**………………**

**………………**

**………………**

**………………**

**………………**

**SYSTEM LOADED.**

* * *

V couldn’t breathe. Something heavy was on top of her. She opened her eyes, but saw Nothing. She tried to move, but the heavy thing made it nearly impossible. She tried harder, and the heavy thing shifted. Encouraged, she tried harder, while pain spiked nauseatingly through her brain. The thing finally gave way and she felt a pressure lift from her. She tried to take a deep breath, but still had trouble. Her vision returned in spurts, the flashes distorted and broken like the streaky image on a broken screen.

After an eternity she raised an arm, it weighed a ton, and reached out. The sensations were hard and unfamiliar. Then her fingers touched something else that gave way, something softer. With another herculean effort she flopped herself over. Slowly she built a picture of where she was.

Landfill.

She dragged herself an inch forward, wanting to cry from how hard it was.

_Stop. Just stop. Lie down and let go._

But for some reason she kept going.

Her hand touched the softer thing again, and she tried to look at it. It was a person. She knew this person.

 _Jackie_.

V almost stopped there, but that same urgent force eventually got her to keep crawling.

Inch, by painful inch.

She flopped onto wet, squishy earth, then realised droplets were pattering against her skin. She was entranced by it and for a while just lay there and felt the rain.

_Keep going._

_Stay._

_Gotta survive._

_Let go._

* * *

When V woke again, she was drenched.

_Gotta… get home. Gotta… get… Jackie home._

With the greatest effort that sent waves of pain so bad through her head that she nearly passed out again, she sent a message.

_Help._

She didn’t know who she’d sent it to, but that’s as much as she could manage before the darkness swallowed her again.

* * *

Voices floated in through the darkness.

“Miss V is in need of urgent medical attention.”

“I know! Just fuckin drive! Hang in there kid, hang in there. Fuck.”

“There is no need for expletives.”

* * *

She was lying on a nicer surface, her vision streaked with red as white light flooded her fried visual cortex. A familiar face broke the light above her.

“Her pressure’s tanking!” he yelled.

Viktor.

“It is neurogenic shock. She is dying,” came a smooth, emotionless voice.

Delamain?

“I fuckin know!” snapped Viktor.

 _I’m okay_ , she wanted to say, but was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter while I'm working on the next one. And don't worry, Takemura will feature in my fic, I just have a slightly different arc planned for him and V.


	17. The Snitch

Marcus held a whiskey tumbler to his pounding head. Yorinobu Arasaka had just addressed the entire company in a surprise video conference. The emperor was dead, and the heir apparent was taking the throne. Arasaka stock prices were dropping and all the departments were in a panic as they figured out what the change meant. He was practically beating off competitors from swooping in on Arasaka assets.

After Yorinobu’s ascension and speech, Abernathy had held a gruelling meeting with all her departments heads. Now Marcus was trying to enjoy a drink to soothe his frayed nerves, but the alcohol wasn’t taking effect. Part of him wanted to take a JOY, but he’d already had one just after the video conference and needed to keep his wits about him. He had to be careful or he’d slip down the same road as Jenkins. He quickly squashed the sliver of sympathy that wormed its way to the surface.

A notification popped up in his interface; a message from an unknown sender. Marcus frowned. He attempted to trace the ID, but it came up blank. His gut twisted with apprehension. Had he been hacked? His security software scanned the message, but also found nothing. Then another message popped up – unknown sender. And another.

For a brief moment Marcus’s prehistoric prey instinct wanted to kick in and have him run, but there was no running from the NET. Not if the NET was as much a part of you as your synapses and arteries.

When the fourth message arrived, Marcus took the plunge:

_I have valuable information regarding the emperor. Lizzie’s, at 10 pm._

Marcus did another sweep with his security software, but no viruses or malware had apparently been unleashed when he opened the message. No more messages came after that. Whoever the sender was, they were a skilled netrunner, or had a pro helping them out, he couldn’t find anything on them.

He sat back and rubbed his aching eyes. A muted warning flashed at his peripheral and informed him that his cortisol levels were elevated. _Yeah no shit_.

Should he report this? Marcus’s headache briefly spiked. Abernathy would immediately assume he was compromised and who knew what the bitch would do if she had even a sliver of suspicion. He grimaced. He _was_ turning into Jenkins. Was this what happened as you climbed to the top? You get driven mad by anxiety, suspicion, and paranoia?

A clearer thought intruded. If Marcus followed the lead and traced it to its source, he could tell Abernathy he’d done it on his own, no need to mention the messages. Depending on what the so-called information was, it could significantly boost his standing in the company. This could be very dangerous of course. He’d have to go armed, maybe have a solo or two watching discreetly.

His mind was already made up.

At 10 pm sharp, Marcus walked into Lizzie’s. The familiar turquoise and violet lights greeted him, and several patrons glared at his suit as he sauntered to the bar. A small pistol was discreetly hidden under his jacket, despite Lizzie’s rules against carrying steel. He clocked the two solos he’d hired from Condor Security, a private mercenary group with a stellar reputation for being unbribable – which also meant their services came at a premium.

Marcus sat down at the bar and ordered a virgin mojito. He needed his wits razor sharp tonight.

“Mr Jastrzebski?” asked a deep voice, completely butchering the pronunciation.

Marcus turned to see a roided up giant with a heavy brow peering at him through dark shades.

“Who’s asking?” Marcus sipped at his mocktail, feigning disinterest.

“Mr Deshawn will see you now.”

Marcus’s ears pricked. Ah, so his mystery contact was Dexter Deshawn, the golden Buddha of fixers. How interesting.

“Mr Deshawn has rented a private booth,” continued the solo, speaking as if it caused him great difficulty.

“Mr Deshawn can speak to me out here.”

The solo shifted and Marcus’s pulse jumped. He kept his expression neutral however. This is what he did, this was his living. He negotiated, he made deals, he smiled and played nice.

“Mr Deshawn don’t want to be seen.”

Oh, so Mr Deshawn was in hiding? He sent a message to the two solos, then rose form his stool. “Very well. Lead the way.”

Marcus was conscious of his heart bursting through his chest as he followed the man to Lizzie’s private booths, expecting to be jumped at any second. The man stopped outside one of the further booths and stood to the side. He knocked once, then opened the door.

The inside of the booth reminded Marcus uncomfortably of the inside of some creature’s belly. Everything was red and the low light and moving shadows gave off the eerie impression of the walls and furniture undulating. Dexter Deshawn, an ample man spilling over his seat, his fingers ringed with gold, and wearing too tight golden pants, sat directly across from him. He too was wearing shades.

“Mr Marcus Jastrzebski,” smiled Deshawn. He gestured lazily at an empty spot on the wraparound sofa. “Make y’self comfortable.”

Marcus settled down a polite distance away and the door closed behind him.

“Smoke?” Deshawn offered an open case of cigars.

“No thank you,” Marcus smiled and stretched his arms across the back of the sofa.

Deshawn took his time to light his cigar, smoked for a few minutes, before exhaling a long sigh and turning to Marcus.

“You’re prob’ly wonderin why I contacted you Mr Jastrzebski.”

“It’s crossed my mind, yeah.”

Deshawn gave him a small, enigmatic smile. “Well it turns out you’re the only soul I could reach in the whole of Arasaka.”

Internally, Marcus frowned. _How_?

“So lucky you, you get first pick!”

“Mr Deshawn, I don’t need to remind you that I am a busy man…”

“Of course, of course,” Deshawn waved. “You’re here to talk business. A’ight.” He straightened up. “Saburo Arasaka was murdered,” he said as simple as if stating the time. “And I can hand you the murderers on a silver plate.”

Marcus felt a shock, but kept his composure. Yorinobu had announced that his father had passed suddenly from a stroke.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Deshawn nodded and blew smoke. “A million eddies. Cash. Tha’s my price. And protection.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes. “And where is your proof Mr Deshawn?”

The large man chuckled, waved his hand, and the holodeck turned on. It played security footage from Konpeki Plaza. He zoomed in on the reception desk as three individuals approached, two women and a large man carrying a case. Recognition flashed in Marcus’s brain. He’d seen that big guy before – at the All Foods factory. The footage jumped around, following the trio through the hotel, showed one of the women take a stroll to the underground parking, then time skipped forward and the footage followed the other two, a dark-haired woman and the big guy taking the elevator up. They disappeared for a while after that. The footage found them again some time later while a Code Red was going off in the hotel. The big guy had obviously been injured. Marcus stared in shocked silence as they snuck around the hotel, somehow avoiding detection, then made their getaway in a stolen car.

There had been myths about how Saburo couldn’t be touched, and here this fixer was telling him, no, _showing_ him, that someone, a bunch of _street rats_ no less, had managed to off one of the most powerful men in the world.

Three pictures popped up onto the holo, showing their faces clearly. Yeah, Marcus had definitely met the big guy and the older of the two women. The other one was little more than a kid.

“Jackie Welles; Valerie Welles, and Dodger, formerly of the Backers. I dealt with the Welles problem, you c’n pick em up at the coordinates I’ll send you as soon as I get my eddies. Miss Dodger here has proven to be more slippery however, but I’m certain a gentleman of your talents can find one little clanless nomad.”

“How did you get this information?” asked Marcus, his thoughts and heart racing with possibilities.

“Ah, well it pains me, Mr Jastrzebski, I hired em. Was supposed to be a simple lil thievin job, but then they went an betrayed me.” He pressed a bejewelled hand to his ample bosom. “It pained me so grievously that I lost my temper a bit and shot Mr and Miss Welles. But that just means that one lil killer is still on the loose.”

“Aren’t you putting yourself in danger, exposing this information? You’re an accessory to the murder of Saburo Arasaka.”

“Now, now, Mr Jastrzebski. I wanted to clear my conscious and wash my hands of this mess. I did not intend for the emperor to die. But you can give the killers to Yorinobu Arasaka and bring peace to his dear ol’ dad’s mem’ry. If my name were to be dragged up in connection to ol’ Saburo’s death, well,” he grinned and his golden tooth glinted, “I c’n disappear along with my information. So, Mr Jastrzebski, we have a deal?”

Marcus stared at Deshawn for a minute. This was too good to be true. But if it _was_ true…

“Very well,” Marcus reached out his hand. “One million eddies. I’ll arrange it.”

“And your guarantee that Arasaka won’t come knockin at my door?”

“You have my word.”

Deshawn chuckled. “Well shit,” he gripped Marcus’s hand and shook heartily. “It’s a pleasure doin business with ya.”

“Where shall I send the money?” asked Marcus as he stood up.

“I have a lil box up at the No-Tell Motel. Charming lil place.”

Marcus nodded.

“Have a pleasant evenin now, Mr Jastrzebski.”

Marcus left the booth feeling like he’d downed a tequila shot. Was he really being handed Saburo Arasaka’s murderers? The evidence was good though, and hard to refute. Yorinobu would certainly reward the man who brought him his fathers’ killers handsomely. He was already planning what to wear when he would meet Yorinobu.


	18. The Silverhand

V woke in a strange bed in an unfamiliar room. Her head spun and her mouth was unbearably dry. She rolled over and winced as pain stabbed through her head. There was someone else in the room with her and she felt them stir.

Dodger looked up from a chair by the bed, her face stained with exhaustion and worry. A smile chipped away at her weariness as she met V’s eyes.

“Thank god, you’re awake!”

“Hey,” V croaked. She frowned and took in the room. Where was she? What happened? What…?

Memory washed over her like a tidal wave and suddenly V was drowning in pain. “Oh god,” she whispered and curled up.

_Jackie._

She saw Dexter shoot him. The blood exploding from the back of his skill. She felt her scream rip through her throat.

A sob choked from her. She scrunched her eyes tight and tears poured over her cheeks.

 _I’ll kill you. I’ll fuckin kill you,_ she thought as she rocked in her little ball.

She wanted to hold a gun to Dexter DeShawn’s head and blow his fucking head off. No – she wanted to smash his stupid fucking skull into a wall, over and over until it was reduced to red pulp. She never wanted anything so badly before. The hatred burned like acid in her gut while grief wracked her from inside like an earthquake.

A hand rested lightly on her shoulder, hesitating, then it settled and stayed there as V shook with silent grief. She clung to the sensation like it was a peace of driftwood in a storm. She was dying inside; she could feel the pain crush her soul. How could she go on without Jackie? The bed shifted as Dodger settled on the edge of the mattress, her hand still on V’s shoulder.

“How… how am I still alive?” V asked huskily.

“Uh,” Dodger’s hand disappeared. “I’ll get Vik to explain.”

Vik. That’s right. He… he somehow found her in… _Oh fuck, he’s still out there!_

V rolled off the bed and shakily got to her feet.

“Good to see you’re awake kid –” Vik appeared in the door, “where are you going?”

“He’s still out there,” she tried to go around him, but he grabbed her by the arms.

“Who?”

“Jackie!” her voice broke.

His face fell and he looked away. “Yeah, I – I heard.”

“We have to go get him.”

“Okay, okay,” he raised his hands. “We’ll make sure to get him home, you just stay here and rest up. There’s… I need to talk to you first.” He gently propelled her back to the bed. Dodger left the room and he took her chair. “Talk to me kid. How you feeling?”

“Like I died.”

He nodded, folded and unfolded his hands. “What else? Any symptoms?”

“My head’s killing me,” she continued in a dead tone. “I – I can’t breathe. And I’m seein things.”

“Like what?”

“Bright lights,” she closed her eyes, “I… I was on a stage… with loud music. I… I’m…” she remembered the feeling now as well, of absolute hatred and rage simmering just under the surface, choking her and burning her from the inside. “I was singing – screaming into a mic. It was… like a dream, but also not?”

Viktor nodded and sighed. “It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.” V frowned and opened her mouth, but Vik continued. “Shard in your head – there’s a personality construct on it. You were remembering his past.”

“His?”

Vik nodded. “Johnny Silverhand. Rock-legend. Terrorist. You two are connected now in a way I can’t figure out.”

V stared at him. “H-how?” Vik lowered his head and foreboding settled heavily in V’s stomach. “What? Tell me!”

“You…” Vik covered his eyes, “uh… you don’t got a lotta time left, kid.”

“What do you mean?”

Vik briefly looked at her, then away again. “The biochip – it’s basically a bomb just ticking away inside your head.”

V took a shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay. How… how much time?”

Vik looked at his hands as they curled and uncurled. “A few weeks. Maybe. The construct, it’s overwriting your consciousness and’ll keep going until it has full control of your cognitive faculties and body. Until…”

“...there’s nothing left of me.”

He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Can’t someone take it out?” asked V, her voice breaking all over.

Vik shook his head. “That’s the fuckin irony of it. The chip is what saved your life, _is_ keeping you alive.”

_Dexter’s pointing a gun at her. Jackie’s dead on the ground. “I’ll fucking kill you!” An explosion of sound. Darkness._

“How?”

Vik shrugged. “Nannites on the chip repaired the lethal damage. Taking that thing out now will kill you instantly.”

 _Know what I see when I look at you? Walking, talking corpses_.

Fuck.

“What…” V rubbed her eyes. “What do I do? Help me, please!”

Vik’s expression twisted with pain. “I’ll do what I can.”

“There’s a fucking dead terrorist in my head,” V buried her face in her hands.

“If…” Vik spoke slowly, “if you choose to end it, here and now, I can help you. Make it quick and painless.”

V peered up at him. “You mean… kill myself?”

_Jackie’s dead on the floor. Flash of the gun. Then... nothing._

“When this thing takes over… the end’s not going to be pretty,” said Vik, looking hopeless.

V looked down at her hands, the smooth chrome of the electro-shock implants in her palms, the little scars and calluses that carried memories of childhood and fights on the streets. She could die now. End it. Join Jackie.

_I’ll fucking kill you!_

Not yet.

“There’s… I gotta do some things first,” said V finally.

Vik nodded again. “In that case, I got something for you. To ease the journey.” He left the room for a moment, then returned with two pill bottles; the one V recognised as powerful painkillers. Vik raised the other bottle. “Omega blockers. Not sure if it’ll help, but maybe it’ll stop the fucker from taking over for a while. And this is for when the pain comes.”

“Thanks, Vik.”

He put the bottles down, looked like he was about to say more, then left.

V stared at the bottles. She had to find Dexter; make things right. And then… well, whatever came after.

Misty came in next. “Hey V.” Her eyes were red and puffy, and she gave V a small smile. “Let’s get you home.”

Misty supported V out of Vik’s clinic to where Dodger was waiting with her car. They drove V the short way to her megabuilding and helped her up to her apartment.

“See you V, take care,” Dodger waved and stepped outside.

Misty helped V onto her bed and sat down next to her.

“I’m supposed to be dead with him,” V whispered. “Instead I’m here, with a fucking bomb in my head. I get to go on, but he—” she choked.

Misty lightly rested her hand on V’s arm. “Don’t focus on that, V.”

“I’m so tired,” V sagged.

“I got something for you,” Misty reached into the pockets of her big, comfy sweater. She took V’s hand and placed something cold in it. It was a bullet on a chain. “Vik took this out of your skull. It’s a reminder that anything’s possible.”

V stared dumbly at the bullet, felt the weight of it in her palm. That something so small had the power to rip someone from the world. Except it didn’t take her.

“Here.” Misty put the chain around V’s neck, and the bullet slipped down V’s shirt and rested against her sternum. “A good luck charm.”

“Not feeling very luck lately,” muttered V.

Misty squeezed her hand. “As long as you’re alive, there’s hope. Got that? You already survived death once. Life is so much more powerful than death, V. Hang onto that.”

“It’s just,” the sob escaped despite V’s attempts at stopping it. “Jackie should be here. I’m so fucking sorry he’s not here. I’m sorry – I’m sorry that it’s not him here with you.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Misty as tears rolled down her face. “Don’t think like that! His spirit was rich, full of love and joy. He’s here with us, right now. I know he is.”

 _I wish I could believe that, like you,_ thought V as she cried. Misty put her arm around her and they wept in silence for Jackie.

Finally, Misty said, “try to get some sleep, okay?” She gave V a final squeeze, then let herself out of the apartment.

V obediently laid her head down on her pillow. The last time she’d slept in this bed she’d been excited about the upcoming heist, and Jackie had been alive. She closed her eyes tight. There were too many last times to think about. If only pain killers worked against this kind of pain.

V woke to a banging sound. When she opened her eyes, a stranger was leaning against her apartment wall, repeatedly beating his head against it. His black hair was almost shoulder-length, his eyes were covered with dark aviators, a shaggy beard covered the lower half of his face. He wore a black, sleeveless t-shirt with _Samurai_ ’s logo, tight leather pants, and boots. He had some tattoos on his right arm and hand that she couldn’t make out. He seemed eerily familiar, like a family member she hadn’t seen in years.

“Gotta get outta here!” he muttered in a low, husky voice.

V shivered. She knew that voice. Then she saw the silver left arm and hand.

Suddenly he was leaning over her and her heart stopped. “I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way,” he hissed. “You included.”

“What –” she started to ask, but then he was back by the wall, slamming his head again as if nothing had happened.

“Need a smoke. Where d’you stash yours?”

V painfully raised herself into a sitting position. “I don’t smoke,” she answered, her voice thick with sleep and grief.

“Then go out and fucking get some!” he raised his voice. “Just need one last smoke.”

“What the fuck, man!” V snapped, suddenly angry at her unwanted guest.

“What kinda fuckin joytoy are you supposed to be?” Johnny Silverhand sneered.

“Fuck off!” yelled V. This had to be a side effect of the fucking biochip, how else was Johnny Silverhand demanding cigarettes in her apartment?

The next moment she was knocked to the floor, with Johnny on top of her, the silver hand curled into a fist and ready to strike. Her eyes were wide and her heart raced. If this was a hallucination, it felt really fuckin real!

“Who do you work for!?” cried Johnny. “Huh!? _Talk_!”

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” cried V. Wait, did he _know_ he was just a construct? That he wasn’t real? “Listen man,” V raised her hand defensively. “I can explain…”

His expression abruptly cleared as he seemed to realise something. “Fuck.”

He raised his right hand and reached for his neural port. To her horror, V’s right hand also raised to her neural port.

“Fucking chip,” Johnny spat. “I’ll rip it out!”

“No wait!” cried V.

Pain sliced through her head. She tasted blood and went blind. The next moment she was standing with her hands pressed against the window and looking out on the rain shrouded city.

“I’ll be in fucking control!” she heard Johnny’s voice, but without a source, and then her head was smashed against the window. A different kind of pain radiated from the impact site, and then she was slammed into the window again. _Stop! Stop! Stop!_ On the third impact she came away with blood trickling from underneath the bandage and down her face. “I’ll find a way! YOU HEAR ME?” his voice thundered.

V woke on the floor a moment later, dazed and hurting. She slowly tried to raise herself as blood kept getting into her eyes. At the edge of her vision she saw a pair of boots pace back and forth. Again she tried to get up, and cursed herself for not taking the pills before she went to bed.

“Not a fucking chance!” Johnny appeared above her and pushed her back down. “Stick some iron in your mouth and pull the fucking trigger if you wanna get rid of me!” He walked away and V felt pathetic, helpless, as she could do nothing but watch. Just like with Jackie. “I can feel our minds touching,” Johnny muttered. “I’m like fucking mould on fruit, creepin into you. Nothing I can do about it. I’d puke if I fucking could.” He walked up to the window. “I gotta be out there, somewhere.”

When V woke again, she was slumped in her shower, water pouring over her. She wiped the hair out of her eyes and winced at the pain that throbbed from her forehead. She swayed to her feet, stepped out of the shower, and stripped out of her wet clothes. Remembering the nightmare of the previous night, V lurched to the mirror and peered at her reflection. She looked like shit, the bandage around her head was soaked through and stained with blood. She pulled the bandage off and winced. That was gonna leave a scar.

V headed for her closet, but halfway there was seized by a crippling headache and she doubled over. It was so bad she almost threw up. A few seconds later it passed, leaving nothing but an echo. She wiped her runny nose, and her hand came away smeared with blood _._ She plugged her nostrils with toilet paper, threw on an old t-shirt and ripped jeans, then got a notification from the megabuilding’s administration. She was behind on rent. _Just fucking fantastic._ She fell onto her couch and covered her eyes as she got overwhelmed by a tsunami of emotions and memories.

_Jackie dead on the floor. A leaking hole in his head._

_Fuck it hurts._

_Focus V. Find Dexter._

To no surprise, Dexter’s number was no longer in service. _Think V, think_. What if she could track down Evelyn Parker? Maybe she had a way of reaching Dexter? Except V had no way of calling Evelyn and the only lead was Lizzie’s. Guess that would be her first stop.

V jumped when she received a call. “Delamain?” she frowned as she checked her interface.

“Greetings Miss V,” Delamain’s bald head appeared in her comm.

“Uh, hey?”

“I just wish to inform you that Mr Welles’ body has been delivered to Mrs Welles with the assistance of Mr Vector and Miss Dodger.”

It felt like a punch to her gut and for a second she couldn’t breathe. “Uh, th-thanks Delamain.”

“You are most welcome Miss V. I hope that you are satisfied with your Delamain service.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she blinked away the tears welling up. “Hey, Del?”

“I would prefer that you refer to me as Delamain, but yes, Miss V?”

“Why… why did you help me?”

There followed a pause.

“My apologies, I do not understand your query.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighed. “Just… thanks, Delamain.”

“Of course, Miss V. I hope that you will consider Delamain again for your future transportation needs.”

The call ended and V whispered to the empty air, “yeah, sure.”

V cleaned herself up as best as she could; she pulled a beanie over her head to hide the conspicuous bullet wound. She downed a bottle of water, but could only manage a small protein bar before her stomach rebelled.

“I’ve been doin some thinkin,” Johnny appeared on her couch, his feet up on V’s coffee table.

“Ah fuck!” V jumped. “What the hell, man!?”

“Yeah, I’ve processed some shit,” he continued, “changed my mind. Don’t want you dead anymore.”

“So, what, we’re buddies now?” V snapped. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Hey, wasn’t easy for me. You woke up in a landfill, I woke up in your head. Think we’re even.”

“No, don’t think we are.”

“Well, like I said, I’ve been thinkin,” he took off his aviators and fixed her with a piercing stare, “think we can help each other.”

“Yeah? Do explain,” V muttered.

“Rogue’s still kicking, we can start with her. Her and I go back to the stone age.”

“And you want me to, what? Stroll into the Afterlife, tell Rogue I got a tumour named Johnny in my head, wanna hang out?”

“Trust me,” Johnny waved her words away, “Rogue’s seen weirder shit.”

“And you won’t try to kill me again or take over? I can’t trust you.”

“Trust me, don’t trust me, fuck I care. We’re in this together whether we like it or not. Rogue’ll dance to the tune I play her. Just get me to Afterlife.” He folded his hands behind his head.

“Not to burst your bubble, but you haven’t been around for decades. You don’t matter as much as you think you do.”

Johnny’s boots landed on the floor with a thud. “Johnny Silverhand is a fucking legend!” he stabbed at her with a silver digit. “Don’t you forget it!”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “The world already moved on without you, ‘Legend’.”

He looked like he wanted to hit her, but instead he disappeared.

Great. It looked like Johnny’s _ghost_ , or whatever that was, was going to be a recurring theme.

V sighed, drank one of the omega blockers, considered taking a painkiller, but put it off. Time she paid Lizzie’s a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeere's Johnny!


End file.
